Fusion
by contrite shadow
Summary: Sequel to "Pebble Beach". Wondering how Ana and Christian will cope with married life? Read on. Fusion: part of the Affinity Color collection, by Benjamin Moore.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: A few of you expressed an interest in finding out how Ana and Christian cope with married life. Well, we know it's not going to be "normal", right? But it got me wondering the same thing, so this story will answer that question…hopefully without too much drama.

A reminder that, in my version of their tale, the lovers were apart for three weeks, then were married eight days after getting back together. And Madeline Brandt is Ana's therapist, recommended by John Flynn.

* * *

Fusion; part of the Affinity Color collection, by Benjamin Moore

Chapter one

With a wait before her next client, Madeline is going over their file when the phone rings. Her receptionist's voice says, "A 'Vincent' on line one, Dr. Brandt. He wouldn't give his last name."

Certain of who is calling, Madeline's heart is beating a little faster as she says, "That's fine, Bea, thank you." Taking a second to calm her nerves, she then pushes the button and says, "Good afternoon, Vincent. Before you proceed, I should tell you that precautions have been taken to ensure this line is secure, but there are no guarantees, so I'd advise caution."

There's a pause and then a man's too calm voice asks, "What precautions?"

"Uh, I'm afraid I don't have enough technical knowledge to give a precise answer. But it's monitored regularly by a reputable firm, and they ensure me it's secure."

Still that icy calm when he then asks, "And this level of security extends to other areas of your practice?"

Understanding that he's asking for his wife, Madeline says, "Yes, sir. My consulting room is effectively soundproof and routinely searched for listening devices. I have a permanent security officer at the door. Every file is assigned a number. Other than in my head, the only written confirmation of who corresponds to what number is secured separately."

"What about when you need to consult other professionals for advice?"

"Well, that rarely happens. But, in the past, I have referred only to symptoms, never names or other identifying facts." When there is no reply, Madeline takes a chance and says, "Though I don't think any of that will be relevant in this case."

"Oh?"

"Yes, sir. My new client is perhaps the sanest person who's ever been in this room, and I include myself in this."

The ice finally breaks and he chuckles before saying, "With one notable exception; she's crazy about _me_." With a sigh, he asks, "Why the fuck did you tell her my name?"

"Uh, the background information that your therapist shared with me - thank you, for that - proved that your past was known, so I knew that wasn't an issue. I used your name to ensure that you'd call me."

It seems as if the phone in her hand actually feels colder when he again says, "Oh?"

"Yes, sir. I have a favor to ask, and have had no luck contacting you directly, but I didn't want to ask that of my client."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't want to use her."

A seemingly long pause, during which Madeline patiently waits for the expected refusal, and then he says, "Go ahead."

"I have…accounts of your history and, though I believe them to be honest retellings, I cannot know for sure. To conclude my research, I'd very much like to hear your side of the story. Other men and women who share your interests have consented to this. Where they require it, I have done and will do what I can to maintain their anonymity."

After another interminable pause, the answer is, "No. I trust this won't influence your ability to function as her therapist?"

"Of course not. Though, as I said, I don't think that I'm necessary in this case. But that's up to my client. I'm available as long as she requires it."

"You should be, with the prices you charge."

With a quiet smile, Madeline says, "I'm sure you've done your own research. So you know that one of the reasons my fees are so steep is to fund my pro bono work."

There's another deafening silence and then he says, "Okay, she can keep seeing you."

Resisting the urge to laugh, Madeline says, "If you think she needs your permission, sir, then you haven't been paying very close attention."

Another chuckle and he says, "And if you think that I couldn't dissuade her, Dr. Brandt, you're the one who hasn't been paying attention."

Finally daring a laugh, Madeline says, "Yes, fair enough. Thank you, for speaking with me. I'm glad you're on the mend, and I truly hope it works out for the two of you."

"It will. I'll make fucking sure of it. Goodbye, Doctor."

As Madeline hangs up the phone, she's left with a somehow certain feeling that she'll never hear that voice again.

* * *

At his first opportunity, Christian calls Ana and she greets him with, "How's the Big Apple?"

"Lonely."

Ana laughs in the way that lifts his heart on hearing it and says, "Christian, you must have just landed. You can't be lonely already."

Surprised by how much it hurts that she seems unaffected by his absence, Christian complains, "You're not?"

"Oh, God. Darling, please don't pout. Yes, I'm always a little lonely when I'm not with you."

"Good. How's your first day back at work?"

"Mad. I had to give the entire editorial staff a severe talking to."

Immediately concerned, Christian asks, "Why? What the fuck have they done?"

"Relax, Grey. They were just…weird about me suddenly being the owner, despite David explaining it all in detail while I was away. So I called a meeting and permitted them one question each, promising no repercussions. It went surprisingly well once someone was brave enough to get the ball rolling. Things are a lot more relaxed now."

Incredibly proud of her for coming up with such a simple but effective solution, Christian asks, "What sort of questions?"

"Oh, as you'd expect, several about my current role and my relationship with you. Ben asked about your injuries."

"Who the fuck is Ben?"

"You met him that day you harassed me at work."

Christian laughs at the memory and says, "I'm afraid that you're all I saw that day." Suddenly, the pain of being without her is almost too much and he says, "God, I miss you."

Ana's voice is full of yearning when she softly says, "I miss you, too, baby. Are you wearing the safety glasses?"

"Yes, baby. I'll be careful. I promise." Taylor is pulling up to the front of the hotel, so Christian says, "And I have to go. I'll call you when I can. I love you, Ana."

"And I love you, Christian."

As he stows his phone, Christian asks Taylor, "Remind me again why the fuck I'm here instead of with that woman?"

With a flash of a grin, Taylor says, "No fucking idea, sir. But, if I had to guess, I'd say it's something to do with your need to make sure Mrs. Grey never wants for anything."

"Yeah, that could be it. Ready to go swimming with sharks?"

Turning to face him for a moment, Taylor reassures Christian, "They don't stand a chance."

By the time they reach the front desk, his presence is known, so it's the work of only moments to check in. Impressed with the level of service, Christian bothers to use the visible nametag to thank the maître de. Clearly surprised, "Hector" stammers, "Uh, you're welcome, sir. I wish you an enjoyable and profitable stay."

With a genuine smile Christian says, "Well, that's all any of us can expect, isn't it?"

Up in their two-bedroom suite, Taylor reminds his boss, "Ninety minutes until Ros gets here to go over tactics. Run or gym?"

Smiling a little at how well Taylor knows him, Christian says, "Gym. I still can't see well enough to really put in some miles. And, if I'm not going to see my wife for three days, I'll need to fucking exhaust myself."

Christian is reminded that his bodyguard will also be abstaining from sex for the duration when the big man snorts a laugh and says, "Yeah, and a cold shower afterwards."

* * *

Despite agreeing to the interview, a nasty backlash of persuading Christian that a personal publicist is a good idea, Ana is a bundle of trembling, sweaty nerves as the finishing touches to her appearance are performed by Natalya. Suddenly, she realizes that Adam is saying something. Looking at the former Texan; six foot five inches of cowboy in a thousand dollar suit and snake-skin boots, Ana says, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Smiling, Adam Garth; publicist to the rich and famous, drawls, "I said that you'll be fine. Just relax and be yourself."

Ana laughs, a little worried at how shrill it sounds, and says, "Myself wants to run screaming for the hills. I'm not…I've never been a very outgoing person."

Portraying only confidence, Adam says, "And you won't need to be for this. That's why I persuaded Mattie to come here. It's just a conversation."

"With cameras and bright lights, and a nationally syndicated audience."

Suddenly, Sawyer holds out his cellphone, saying, "Mr. Grey for you, ma'am."

Surprised, because she hadn't heard a ringtone, Ana gratefully accepts and takes her first calm breath in hours when Christian's voice says, "Hey, baby. How are you holding up?"

Wondering how his timing could be so good, Ana guesses when she sees the hint of a grin on Sawyer's face and says, "Oh, Luke called _you_. We really should do something about our mutinous staff."

Christian laughs and says, "I agree. I'll probably have to give him a pay rise. You know that you don't have to do this, baby. I don't give a fuck what the public thinks of us."

"Yes, but I do. I can't stand that you're in danger because people don't know how wonderful you are." With a grin, she adds, "And everyone agreed that putting a camera in your face was a bad idea."

Another laugh and Christian says, "True enough. It cost me quite a bit of money to clean up the mess last time that happened."

They're quiet for a second and then Ana pleads, "If you tell me I can do this, I'll probably believe you."

Without hesitation, Christian says, "Baby, I _know_ you can do this. And, much as I don't like the idea, I'm still incredibly proud of you for doing something that scares you."

As if by magic, Ana's fears seem to have vanished, and she says, "Thank you, darling. I know you're busy."

"Never too busy for you, baby. Call me when you're done."

Confident that Adam won't suspect she's serious, and the other two won't care, Ana replies, "Yes, Sir."

Christian groans and says, "Fuck, baby, that's…two more days, and then I'll make you sorry for that."

"Promise?"

"Fuck, yes."

With their familiar teasing, it's almost as if Christian really is with her, and Ana says, "I'm okay now, thank you. I love you."

"I love you too, baby. Knock 'em dead."

Ana returns Sawyer's phone, saying, "He says you're fired."

Smiling, Sawyer says, "Yes, ma'am."

Having patiently waited while Ana drew courage from her spouse, Adam now says only, "Ready?"

As if she never had even a moment of doubt, Ana smiles and confirms, "Ready."

* * *

Ana is sitting up in bed, one manuscript on her lap and others cascading over the covers, when Christian calls, and she answers, "Did you see it?"

"Watching it now. Oh, wait; here comes my favorite part."

Ana guesses from the disapproving tone, but she listens anyway as she hears the reporter, Matilda, again ask, _"And is it true that you and Mr. Grey broke up for a while before resuming your relationship and marrying only a week later?"_

_"Yes, it's true. Christian and I come from such different worlds that I thought we might be better off apart. But he persuaded me that I was wrong, and I'm eternally grateful he did, because I've never been happier, and I was miserable without him."_

_"And how did he persuade you?"_

Ana listens, with remembered glee, how she'd known that Christian would be upset with her cheeky answer. _"He turned up on my doorstep, on his knees, and didn't move until I took him back."_

_"Well, there you have it, bachelors of Seattle; if you want to win the woman of your dreams all you have to do is get down on your knees and beg."_

Biting back the giggle rising within her, Ana says, "Well, it's the truth."

"Yes, but you did you have to actually tell the fucking world, Ana? I'm trying to broker a deal here, and you've made me look like a chump."

"Only you think that, Christian. Everyone else sees a man so enamored that he'd do anything for the woman he loves."

His tone a little softer, Christian says, "Well, that's the truth, too. But I'm still fucking pissed at you."

"If it makes you feel any better, Adam thought it went very well; said you came off sounding like a cross between Rudolph Valentino and a much better-looking Bill Gates."

Christian's chuckle proving his words a lie, he says, "No, it fucking doesn't. They stuck to the deal then; didn't ask any questions about my past?"

Wondering how to tell him without causing a vendetta against the reporter who was just doing her best to get a good story, Ana hesitates too long, because Christian growls, "She fucking did, didn't she?"

"Christian, please don't get upset. She would have been ordered to."

"That's not why she pressed you. She's a fucking reporter, Ana. What did she say?"

Ana knows by now that he won't let it go, so she sighs and says, "I'll tell you if you promise to leave it alone. You need to start trusting me to look after myself, Christian."

She can practically hear his teeth grinding before Christian says, "Fine. I promise. So long as you never use her again."

Relieved that it was so easy, Ana laughs and says, "Oh, I've already made that very clear." When he only waits in silence, she explains, "She asked if I was aware that there are certain rumors about you and some rather exclusive clubs in and around Seattle."

"Fuck. I take it you handled it okay? Because none of that made it to air."

A thrill of pride going through Ana at his confidence in her, she explains, "I was shocked at first, given that Adam had made the terms very clear, and with you being so careful. But then I tried to imagine how you'd handle it. I did my best impersonation of Agent Smith and said, 'Interesting career move.' She stared at me for several seconds, and I stared right back. Then she muttered an apology and moved on."

"Oh, baby, you're brilliant. I wish I'd fucking been there to see my tigress with her claws out."

Ana giggles at the image and says, "Darling, if you're been there, I wouldn't have had a chance to reply, _and_ you'd be dodging an assault charge."

"True." And then they're both quiet for a few seconds and Christian says, "Soon, my love."

Gasping at the promised contained in those few words, Ana recovers and says, "Oh, I like that title."

His voice suddenly very gentle, Christian says, "You are, you know? My Eurydice."

Of course, Ana knows the story and, almost in tears at the longing in his voice, says, "And would you travel to the realm of the dead for me?"

"Of course, baby. I even know the way."

"What? Oh, you mean your birth mother."

"No, I…Mom says I was in a pretty bad way when they found me."

The heart dropping out of Ana's world, she meekly asks, "You died?"

"Just for a few seconds. Clearly, I came back."

"Why haven't you ever mentioned this?"

"I don't remember it. Well, I have a vague memory of a white-hot light, but that could be anything; an EMT shining a torch in my eyes. Why are you so upset?"

Wondering how such a smart man can be so obtuse, Ana says, "Why am I so upset? You died, Christian!"

"But I'm alive now."

"And how would you feel if the same thing had happened to me?"

After a moment, Christian says, "Oh. Yeah, I wouldn't like that." They're both quiet again for a few seconds and then he ponders out loud, "It really is incredible that we found each other, isn't it?"

Determined to lift the mood, Ana teases, "Yes. And you owe it all to Kate."

Christian groans and says, "That was cruel, baby."

A glance at the alarm clock and a quick calculation of time zones, and then Ana says, "You'd better go. Not even Christian Grey can run on no sleep at all." When he says nothing, she offers, "Want me to stay on the line?"

With a harsh laugh, Christian wearily says, "I want you to fucking crawl through it and be in my arms. But, since we can't do that, I'd love to fall asleep listening to you breathing, thank you."

"I'm actually reading a manuscript. It's not bad. How about I read you to sleep?"

"It feels like I shouldn't want that, but I do. Thanks, Mom."

Glaring, though he can't see it, Ana says, "I don't like _that_ title so much."

This time a relaxed, throaty chuckle and Christian amends, "Thank you, my love."

Putting the phone on Speaker and resting it in her lap, Ana begins, _"Born and raised in the foothills of northwest Georgia, Jeremiah's father taught him all kinds of survival techniques, though his overriding lesson was simply this: You could trust nature but not man…"_

* * *

Ana's first real session with her therapist has been going well. After catching up, Madeline asks, "So, you don't regret your decision to try Domestic Discipline?"

"Oh, all the time, but never for very long. It's not been easy to accept that side of me. But I can see…no, it's more profound than that…I can _feel_ that it's good for me. I'm stronger, more focused." With a laugh, Ana adds, "I'm even less clumsy. It's as if I finally fit in my skin."

"And your husband?"

"Why do you call him that or 'Mr. Grey', never 'Christian'?"

Taken aback, Madeline says, "Uh, it's courteous, I guess. I've never actually met him, so it seems appropriate." When this is met by only an enigmatic smile, she adds, "Why do I feel like we've suddenly swapped roles?"

With an easy laugh, Ana says, "Seems I'm not the only one with a submissive nature. Relax, I know; you won't discuss details of your personal life. Where were we? Oh, Christian; yes, it's working out well for him, too. This is who he is, just as it's who I am. He's much more relaxed nowadays. When I met him, I was forcing myself to be what everyone needed or expected of me. But it's like stretching an elastic band; you can only go so far before it springs back or breaks. Christian was like that for a while…I told you that we broke up for a while before we got married?" At Madeline's nod, Ana continues, "The heartache of worrying that it might happen again made him…well, by choice, put aside his needs to focus on mine. Oh, it was wonderful, don't get me wrong. And I think we could have gone on for years with me only submitting during play or sex. But the band would have snapped back eventually, and someone would have been hurt. Or, worse, it would have broken, and been incapable of repair."

Madeline nods and says, "The first time we met…actually, even speaking to you on the phone, I wondered why you were seeking professional help when you seemed so…well, sane. Whether they know it or not, most people seek me out because they have problems that cannot be fixed by solitary introspection. And you seemed so relaxed and content. I wondered why Dr. Flynn had referred you to me. But I can see now that you still had a way to go before you worked out who you are. Though I honestly think you would have sorted this out by yourself; you and…" With a grin, she concludes, "Christian."

Ana smiles and says, "Yes, I've told John that Christian is my cause and my cure. Oh, I have an example; for your research?"

"Please."

"As I said, we commenced the trial run immediately after I saw you last. Turns out it was even directly helpful for Christian. He was still struggling with the emasculating loss of vision, so being able to discipline me, as he had done with women in the past, was better therapy than anything John could have come up with. Anyway, at first it was pretty much just foreplay, because we were both quite literally excited by our prospective roles. And I was enjoying being able to flick that switch in him. I call his dominant side Playful/Angry Christian and I love him perhaps more than any other persona. The person he is in that moment speaks to me on such a profound level that I could never hope to explain how or why." Smiling, Ana says, "I'm sorry. Even when he's on the other side of the country, I find him distracting."

"It's okay. You've no idea how refreshing it is, in my line of business, to hear a wife talking about her husband with only love and respect."

Ana laughs and says, "Yeah, I see what you mean. Well, Christian…one of his symptoms, I guess, is a tendency towards neatness and order. No doubt one of the reasons he's become so successful. Whereas, I…well, I'm clean, but I'm something of a slob compared to him. One morning…"

As she sets the scene for Madeline, Ana recalls every detail of the first time Christian punished her for real…

That evening, Ana was discussing the week's menu with Gail when Christian suddenly entered and thumped an empty coffee mug on counter, saying, "Ana, I've told you before; Gail has enough to do without having to pick up after you in every room in the house."

"It's all right, Mr. Grey, I really don't mind." All it took was a glance from Christian and Gail shot Ana an apologetic grimace before leaving.

Genuinely contrite, because she truly appreciates all that their hardworking housekeeper does for them, Ana watched the understandably retreating woman and said, "You're right. It's not fair to Gail. I'll try and remember."

Christian waited for the click of the door gently shutting and then coolly said, "Not quite good enough, I'm afraid."

Comprehending that he was talking about punishment, Ana said, "For a cup? I don't think so."

His manner becoming calmer by the second, Christian's voice was deceptively soothing when he said, "As you've given your consent, and I've warned you about his behavior more than once, it's past the point where you get a say in the matter. Go, get ready."

On realizing that he was serious, Ana couldn't stop herself backing away as she said, "No, Christian, you promised to never punish me when you're angry."

His voice almost a caress, Christian asked, "Do I seem angry to you?"

"I can't tell. You're all Agent Smith again, and you're scaring me."

"Good. Maybe you'll remember to pick up after yourself from now on."

Looking around for a way past him, Ana bargained, "Well, what if we get an assistant for Gail? Then we wouldn't have to worry about this."

With a slight nod of ascent, Christian said, "If you're honestly too lazy to return your cup to the kitchen, we can talk about it…after your punishment. This is the second time I'm telling you; get ready, or I'll be forced to break our rule about punishments only taking place in the playroom."

Her heart pounding, Ana's mouth was so dry with fear that she almost couldn't swallow, and she said, "Please, Christian, I don't want this."

With a knowing smile, Christian said, "Baby, your body is practically begging me. Look at your tits."

Ana, of course, couldn't stop her eyes from reflexively glancing down, even though she could feel that her nipples were hard points of arousal. In that moment, Christian closed the distance between them and pinned her against the wall, forcing her hands behind her back as he purred, "Now, the question becomes, which position?"

"No, please, Christian; Gail might come back."

"Then you shouldn't have argued, especially in front of Mrs. Jones." Suddenly releasing her, he commanded, "Lean over and grab the counter."

The tears falling even as she performed his bidding, Ana sobbed, "Christian, please; not like this."

His voice husky, apparently oblivious to Ana's real distress, Christian had said, "Oh, trust me, baby; you _will_ like this."

Her skirt was up over her hips and his hands on the waistband of her panties when Ana sobbed, "Yellow."

Frozen for a second, Christian tapped her twice on the shoulder as he said, "Hey, what's going on. Talk to me."

This simple reminder that she's also in control gave Ana some peace, but her heaving, sobbing breaths made it difficult when she'd stood and faced him, saying, "Mom…she thought I…"

Snapping out of her reverie, Ana offers Madeline a wan smile and continues, "I was in ninth grade when a handful of students, as the bus left the school grounds, had mooned the principal out the back window. He was furious and hunted down all the offenders…or thought he had. Someone said I was one of them and Mom was called the school. She had to leave work to do so and was furious with me. I understand now that it was because she wouldn't have been paid for those hours and was worried about whether she'd make rent that month. But all I saw was the fury. She…God, it's still not easy after all this time, but at least I can talk about it now. Mom listened to the details, becoming angrier by the second and refusing to hear my side. Then she made me lean over and grab the desk, with my back towards the window."

"Oh, you poor kid."

"Yes. She lifted my skirt up and my panties down and made me stand like that while she finished talking to the principal. I was already shy. Listening to the whistles and cat-calls outside while I stood there for what seemed like forever pretty much ensured that I had no social life well into college."

"And how did your hus…how did Christian take this?"

"I was too upset to tell him at first. So he carried me to the nearest chair and just held me until I calmed down. When I was done, he said, 'I suppose hurting Carla is out of the question?' Oh, that's my Mom. We've talked about it now. She still didn't know that I was innocent. But she confessed to feeling just awful about putting me through that, and thanked me for mentioning it." With a laugh, Ana adds, "She apologized for most of the phone call even after I said that she was forgiven."

"So what started as a punishment session ended as therapy, instead?"

Smiling, Ana says, "In a way, though it still ended as punishment." At Madeline's confusion, Ana explains, "When I was all cried out and had thanked Christian, he said, 'You're welcome, baby. Now, go get ready.' I was, I think it's fair to say, shocked and appalled at his apparent insensitivity. When I expressed my horror that he was proceeding, he said, 'You need it now more than ever, baby. I'll never punish you unfairly. But I'll always follow through. You can trust me.'"

"And?"

With a shrug, Ana says, "And he was right. He annoyingly often is. As he spanked me, I've never felt so safe, so loved. Afterwards we had possibly the best sex ever, and fell asleep in each other's arms. Ever since then I feel…well, I won't say that I want to moon everyone. But I don't feel that same terror at the idea." Giggling at the thought, she concludes, "Christian is the one who would be terrified of that."

Shaking her head a little, Madeline says, "I almost feel guilty billing you for these couple of sessions. It seems as if I've got so much more from them than you have. I'm sorry, Ana."

Offering her best smile, Ana says, "Oh, no. Don't be. This progress was only possible because of you. Christian didn't have…I'm not going to share details that belong only to him, but his start to kink meant that he, for years, thought it something more abhorrent than aberrant. He still struggles with that and lives in constant fear that his secret might one day explode, harming his family. But your clinical approach to this supposedly rare but somehow prevalent aspect of so many peoples' lives meant that I don't share that fear. It's just who I am."

"Thank you, for saying that. But I honestly think this might as well be our last session, though I'm always available if you ever need me."

Considering for a second, Ana then says, "Yes, I think you're right." Standing, she offers her hand and says, "Thank you, Doctor. I wish you luck finding out who _you_ are."

Madeline actually blushes a little as she says, "Thank you. I'm working on it. Bye, Ana."

* * *

Author's other note: Would you mind now scanning back over the flashback scene and let me know if it worked or not? It's something new for me; comments, questions or concerns all welcome, thank you.

Where credit's due: The excerpt Ana reads is from "Tell No One", by Harlan Coben; the book I had nearby when I needed a paragraph. It's quite good if, like me, you enjoy murder mysteries.

The ancient Greeks, for the story of Orpheus and Eurydice; the more romantic version.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

After another fulfilling but tiring day in her newly-appointed job as Copy Editor – the promotion most suited to her current abilities – Ana is heading home, reading a manuscript in the back seat as the SUV crawls through rush hour traffic. With Christian still in New York until at least tomorrow evening, she's brought home enough work to keep her occupied. The familiar, uniformed security guard at the entrance to the parking garage is approaching. He usually just waves an acknowledgement, so a curious Ana is paying attention when Sawyer winds the window down enough to hear the guard say, "Anonymous letter arrived at the front desk for Mrs. Grey. It's with your man, Ryan, now."

Ana can practically feel the tension in Sawyer at these words. But he merely mutters a thankyou and parks the car before saying, "Please wait here, ma'am, while I contact Ryan."

His reversion to "ma'am" instead of her first name, even though it's just the two of them, confirms how upset he is. Confused, Ana asks, "What's going on? My name _is_ Grey, now. And I do live here."

His phone in his hand, Sawyer takes the time to explain, "No mail comes directly here; not for you or Mr. Grey. It first goes through the Postal Service's security measures before one of us picks it up. I presume it's now been scanned and cleared, or Ryan would have already contacted me. But I'd like to make sure."

Afraid, and without knowing exactly why, Ana hands are actually trembling as she meekly says, "Okay."

The phone call lasts only seconds and a much more relaxed Sawyer says, "We're right to proceed. Sorry if I scared you."

"Yes, you did. But I'll assume you have good reason to do so. Has there ever been an attack on Christian this way?" At the return of tension to his shoulders, Ana says, "Never mind. I'm sorry. I probably don't want to know, anyway."

Again relaxing as he follows procedure for getting Ana safely into the apartment, Sawyer says, "Thank you, Ana."

"That's okay. I know everything you do is for me or Christian, no matter how challenging your methods are. I presume Ryan will want to see me?"

Sawyer nods and says, "He's in Taylor's office, but there's no hurry."

As they enter the elevator, Ana says, "Except that I'm _very_ curious about this letter." On seeing that reflexive tightening of his shoulders yet again, Ana says, "Luke, relax, or you're going to implode. Just talk to me, okay?"

With a heavy sigh, Sawyer says, "Ryan thinks it's most likely from one of Mr. Grey's former…women. He won't open it without your permission. But he'd very much like to be the first person to read it."

Suddenly nauseous at the implications, Ana gasps, "Oh." When she's recovered enough to form real words, she asks, "Blackmail?"

Sawyer inclines his head and says, "Possibly. Or just trying to make trouble. Some of them were extremely reluctant to leave him."

Ana manages a laugh, though even to her ears it sounds forced, and says, "Well, I can understand that." Trying to expel the tension from her body with a deep breath, she then says, "Okay, I'll let Ryan know he can open it."

As the elevator pings their arrival at the apartment, Sawyer again says, "Thank you, Ana. I'll see you in the morning."

Despite it never being discussed, Ana knows that the young bachelor often lingers for a home-cooked meal from Gail, so she says, "Oh, you're not staying?"

With a grimace, Sawyer says, "The envelope should not have had a chance to be left downstairs. So I think I'll pass, tonight."

"Ryan won't take it out on you, though."

"Still, I'd rather not hang around."

Smiling at one of her favorite bodyguards, Ana accuses, "Wuss."

Pressing the button for the ground floor, Sawyer also smiles, saying, "Yes, ma'am."

Ana hasn't got very far towards Taylor's office when she encounters Ryan and tries to alleviate his pain with, "Anything interesting in the mail today?"

But it's only enough to elicit a tight, grim smile from the man and he says, "Sawyer told you?"

Letting him carry her briefcase, Ana says, "He told me it's most likely from one of Christian's subs, though he was too polite to use that term. How about you check it out and then we formulate a plan before calling Christian?"

Finally relaxing a little, Ryan says, "I think that's an excellent idea. If I'm right, he is _not_ going to like this."

As they now head towards the master bedroom, Ana asks, "So, no idea who left it?"

"No, ma'am. They wore concealing clothing and waited until the desk was momentarily vacant, and the lobby security guard occupied, before leaving the envelope. Looking at the footage, it doesn't look like a female. But that doesn't mean much."

At the bedroom door, Ana gratefully accepts the briefcase and again tries for humor, saying, "Well, look on the bright side; it could have been a bomb." When Ryan only looks horrified, she lightly punches his shoulder and says, "Will you lighten up? We'll sort this out, okay?"

Clearly unconvinced, Ryan only says, "Yes, ma'am. I'll let you know what I find."

Despite her bravado in front of the security team, Ana is an emotional wreck and prays that Christian doesn't call her early tonight, before she has a chance to calm down. She even notices Gail giving her furtive glances over dinner – the women often eating together while their men are away – and says, "So, you know?"

Surprised to be asked, Gail says, "I know you received a letter. And I know that Jason has cautioned me several times to never open mail delivered here."

"I'm thinking details and/or photos plus a demand for money?"

Slowly nodding, Gail warily says, "Sounds about right. I presume it's addressed to you because they think you're weaker than Mr. Grey." With a grin, she adds, "Their first mistake."

Somehow, it works, and Ana is finally able to relax, saying, "You've got that right. Thanks, Gail." Pushing her mostly untouched plate of food away from her, Ana continues, "Would you wrap this up for me? I can't do it justice until I know what we're dealing with."

"Of course. Do you want me there, too?"

After a moment, Ana says, "No, thank you. You don't need to get mixed up in this. And Christian will feel better the less people who see it."

Already moving to cover Ana's meal, Gail says, "I'm sure it'll be fine. Ryan was in the FBI for several years. He'll know what to do."

Smiling at the memory, Ana says, "Luke lit out of here with his tail between his legs. But Ryan has barely shown any emotion in front of me; certainly never anger."

"Well, I guess – just like Jason – his biggest fear is not being enough. But he's very good at his job, or he wouldn't be here."

Ana nods and says, "And I'm stalling. Would it violate workplace guidelines if you just give me a hug before I go in there?"

Her face the very definition of compassion, Gail does so without hesitation, and says, "It'll be okay, Ana."

Too moved for words, Ana draws what strength she can from the older woman's embrace and then nods before going to Taylor's office. Ryan is standing almost at attention when she enters, reminding her that there are cameras in every corridor. Not wanting to delay any longer, Ana says, "What's in the letter and what do we do about it?"

Clearly surprised at her businesslike manner, Ryan says, "Uh, it's transcripts of a blog…a very detailed blog. There's also a demand for money."

"How much?"

"Fifty thousand dollars."

Confused, Ana says, "That doesn't seem like much…I mean, it's a fortune to me. But it's nothing to Christian, right?"

With a shrug, Ryan says, "Either they're stupid; my best guess, or they're gambling on you being willing to pay such a small amount just to stop the letters."

"You expect more?"

"Yes, ma'am; if you pay."

Considering for a second, Ana asks, "Why 'stupid'?"

"I did some digging and found the original blog. It doesn't feature Mr. Grey's name in any context. Someone added his name after downloading."

"So, even if they're willing to violate the terms of their contract and risk public exposure, they can't actually prove that it's him?"

"Exactly."

"So, why are you still nervous?"

"Uh, because…ma'am, I'd advise that you never read the letter."

Incredibly relieved, Ana laughs and offers her hand, saying, "Done. I already know far too much about his past." With both of them now a little more relaxed, she asks, "So, what next? Do you want me to tell Christian?"

"Thank you, ma'am. But I think that would make things worse. I'd prefer to call Taylor and he will brief Mr. Grey. Though I'd expect a phone call soon afterwards, just to check that you're okay." Shaking his head a little, he reveals, "If it's not impertinent to suggest it, ma'am, you're handling this very well."

"It doesn't seem impertinent, thank you. It helps that you're not freaking out about it. You're enough." At his confusion, she says, "Gail says you and Jason are afraid of not being enough."

Actually laughing a little, for the first time since she's known him, Ryan says, "Oh. Yes, she's probably right. Thank you, ma'am."

Guessing that it's a polite dismissal, Ana says, "Well, I'm going to finish my dinner and let you get on with ruining Taylor's day." Again shaking his hand, she adds, "Thanks, for taking such good care of me."

With genuine warmth, Ryan replies, "Thanks, for making it worthwhile."

After finishing her dinner, and updating Gail on what's happening, Ana is of course reading when Christian calls, saying, "Hey, baby. You okay?"

Ana knows that he'll be blaming himself for any distress she feels, so she deliberately keeps the mood light, saying, "Other than missing you, I'm fine. Taylor talked to you?"

"Yes. So, you're not angry?"

"At the blackmailer? Yes. At you? No. You've done nothing wrong."

She can practically feel his relief and then Christian says, "Thank you. I'm so sorry. I want to fucking kill them for putting you through this."

"I'm fine, really. I think the guys overreacted a little. It's not as if I was in any danger. I would like a couple of reassurances from you, though."

"Oh?"

Ignoring his wariness, Ana says, "Yes. Please promise me that, if there's anything I can personally do to sort this out, you'll ask me. And, please, please, Christian, don't do anything illegal? We're going to raise a family one day and I don't want to do that with bars between us, okay?"

Laughing in relief, Christian says, "Okay, baby. I can do that. Though, I'm part of the richest one percent, so it's more likely to be Perspex than bars."

"Perspex, then. I don't want any barriers between us, physical or emotional."

Sounding suspiciously like he's now laughing _at_ her, Christian says, "No barriers; got it."

"What's funny?"

"Just picturing the conjugal visits."

Filled with love for him, Ana says, "Mr. Grey, you're insatiable."

"Not actually. I haven't had sex for fifty-four hours."

Delighted that he seems okay when this could have been a very tense conversation, Ana smiles and says, "Sounds serious, baby. Are you taking anything for it?"

"Yeah, cold showers. But I have a feeling that phone sex will prove much more effective."

Suddenly nervous, given that they've never tried this, even as her body warms to the idea, Ana says, "Uh, okay. But we know from that questionnaire that there are only a few things that turn me on, and none of them are in this room."

Christian chuckles and says, "Baby, I didn't need a questionnaire for that. You come like a freight train when I tie you up and spank you. But it takes several minutes when you're on top and unbound. Hell, a seatbelt is enough to get you hot, if I'm nearby. And even Brad knows how much you like a five-point harness."

Remembering her gaff at that first driving lesson, when she'd been so turned on by Christian's expert handling of the Porsche, Ana is blushing as she says, "Not nice, Grey. Okay, how are we going to do this?"

"Uh, no idea, baby."

"What; no research?"

"I _am_ working here. Not twiddling my thumbs and jerking off…well, not twiddling my thumbs. How about the traditional; what are you wearing?"

"See, am I meant to tell you that I'm just wearing a t-shirt, or describe some black, lacy negligee?"

"I'm thinking that technical questions won't do the trick, but t-shirt works for me, baby."

"Really? Why?"

In a lustful purr, Christian says, "Access."

His voice alone working wonders on her libido, Ana puts the manuscript aside and says, "So, if I mention that I'm in bed and slowly pulling the t-shirt up to expose my milky-white thighs, that works for you, too?"

Christian groans and says, "Fuck, yes. But loan me your right hand."

"Loan it to you?"

"When I give you a command, it's for your right hand. Keep your other hand on the phone."

"Wouldn't speakerphone work better?"

"Not for us. You need some sort of restriction. Keeping your left hand by your ear might be enough, and I don't want to waste another second on preparations. I'm going to fuck you with your right hand."

Gasping at the raw lust in his voice, Ana's body is aflame with desire when she says, "Oh, God. Yes, that could work. Do I need to ask what _your_ right hand is doing?"

Grunting a little, Christian says, "Currently unbuttoning my jeans as fast as it fucking can. Thanks, for this, baby. I need you tonight."

"No more than I need you, husband."

* * *

At first confused, Ana realizes it's the message alert on her phone that has woken her. Checking the time, she notices that she's overslept and guesses that she forgot to set the alarm. Remembering why she was distracted last night means she's already smiling as she reads the text from Christian, "Slept like a log. No nightmares. Thank you, my love. XX"

Smiling that he's signed off with kisses for the first time, Ana thinks for a moment and is grinning when she replies, "No, thank U…talking to my right hand, of course."

Only seconds later, her phone beeps with the message, "Don't get too fucking attached to it. Your orgasms are MINE!"

Not even noticing that she's nervously biting her bottom lip at the thought of prodding the tiger, Ana dares, with slightly trembling fingers, to type the words, "Except that you're not here."

She finally releases the breath that she'd been holding when Christian almost immediately replies, "When I get home tonight, I won't know what to do first; punish you or fuck you!"

This desperate ache deep in her body, too acute to be mere physical need, leads Ana to suggest, "How about both? The flogger will be under your pillow."

"In our bedroom?"

"Yes, Sir. Ok with U?"

"Okay? Fuck, Ana. I'm in a meeting and my dick just lifted the table!"

Giggling with delight that he's so pleased with her idea, Ana concludes, "Gotta go. I'm late. SxYS!"

She laughs again at his final reply, "FckYS!"

* * *

Ana hasn't yet finished breakfast when Ryan finds her and says, "Uh, ma'am; Mr. Grey has requested extra security measures until this blackmailer is apprehended."

Mystified, given that she's accompanied almost everywhere, Ana says, "Extra? I don't take a step out of this apartment without one of you shadowing me. What more can you do?"

With a slightly pained expression, Ryan reveals, "Shadow you everywhere."

"You're talking about Grey Publishing; you want to have someone follow me even inside the building."

"Yes, ma'am."

Reminding herself that the loyal employee standing before her is just following orders, Ana manages to almost keep the anger from her voice when she says, "I'm going to talk to my husband, and then you and I will discuss this again."

Inclining his head in obeisance, Ryan's feet are already pointing towards the nearest exit as he again says, "Yes, ma'am."

Remembering that Christian is working, Ana texts him, "Urgent, but NOT emergency. Please call me when you're free."

She's barely finished eating when Christian calls back, saying, "If you're going to fight me on this, baby, we may have a problem."

Willing her ire to manageable levels, Ana politely asks, "Whom does our security team work for?"

She actually counts a three second pause before Christian reluctantly snaps, "Us. But your safety is paramount above even that consideration."

As if he hadn't spoken, Ana asks, "And did you, or did you not, promise to let me decide what happens in my workplace?"

Still apparently unwilling to yield, Christian is all CEO when he calmly says, "Yes. But, again, your safety overrides even that. I can't have you in danger, Ana."

"How do you know I'm in danger?" When he doesn't reply for several seconds, she remembers another promise and says, "My feet hurt."

"Fuck!"

"And put it on speaker, or give him the phone."

Finally sounding a little relaxed, Christian says, "You don't trust me, baby?"

"Not about this. Thank you, for being reasonable."

The next voice Ana hears is Taylor's and he asks, "Ma'am?"

"Hello, Taylor. I'm glad you'll be home, soon. Gail has been missing you."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'm missing her, too. Can I help you?"

"Christian has agreed to let you decide whether or not additional measures are necessary while we sort this mess out. I think one bodyguard in the building and two security guards at the front door is enough. I don't want to be followed everywhere while I'm working."

While she waits for his reply, Ana wonders how it's come to this; an employee deciding how much freedom she has. Finally, Taylor says, "How would you feel about additional uniformed guards on all the exits?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ana says, "I can live with that, thank you. Did Christian hear that?"

She can guess that her overprotective husband isn't happy with the idea when Taylor wearily says, "Yes, ma'am. I'll contact Ryan and have him set it up."

Then Christian's voice snaps, "Happy?"

Wondering how upset he is, Ana says, "Quite, thank you." She can't stop herself from asking, "Sure you're okay with this?"

"No! Thanks, for fucking asking. But I will be." There's a pause during which Ana can imagine him running a hand through his hair in frustration, and then Christian says, "Please be careful, Ana."

"You, too. You're not the only one who worries about their spouse."

"I promise. I have to go."

"How's it going?"

"Bad news, I'm afraid. We're about to move up Forbes' list of richest couples."

It takes a moment for Ana to realize that it's in fact _good_ news, and she laughs before saying, "Just as well; I'm kind of getting used to being rich."

"I'm glad. I love you, baby. Stay safe."

"I will. I love you, too."

It's another few seconds before Christian finds the strength to hang up. Several seconds after that, Ana is still staring at her phone. But then she wipes the few tears from her eyes and goes about her day.

Despite Christian's concerns, no mystery blackmailer in a hoodie tries to storm Grey Publishing. Sawyer remains present but unobtrusive, so Ana is able to get a lot of work done. With Christian not due to land at SeaTac until at least midnight, she again brings home some bound manuscripts to distract her while she waits for him. Ryan greets her with good news, "They've caught them, Mrs. Grey. Behind bars as we speak."

"Them?"

"Yes, uh, the man who delivered the letter is the woman's current lover. She let slip about her previous relationship with Mr. Grey, and the guy thought he could make it work for him."

"Christian knows all this?"

"Yes, ma'am. He's the reason we tracked them down so quickly."

At first confused, Ana then says, "Oh. He recognized her from the details on the blog."

Suddenly wary, Ryan says, "Yes, ma'am. You okay?"

So he won't worry, Ana manages a smile and says, "I will be. I can cope with knowing about his past. But I don't much like these reminders. Will it happen again?"

"Well, that's one of the reasons Mr. Grey insisted on filing charges; to deter others."

"But you don't know for sure?"

"No ma'am. I'd like to thank you again for your cooperation. This could have been much more unpleasant if you'd made a fuss."

Quietly proud of herself for apparently giving the appearance of calm, Ana smiles and says, "I don't see how that would have helped. Here's hoping it's a one-off."

"Amen. I'll be in the office if you need anything."

After a relaxing dinner with Gail, Ana curls up on the sofa, listening to tunes that she's heard Christian play on piano and poring over manuscripts until she can barely keep her eyes open. It's gone midnight and still no text from Christian to say that he's landed. So she gets ready for bed like a robot. But smiles on seeing her t-shirt and chooses, instead, to get into bed naked.

Almost too late, she remembers her promise and wearily gets out of bed to don her robe and fetch the flogger, idly wondering what Ryan will think of her midnight mission if he's still watching the cameras. Placing the now cherished whip gently under his pillow, and despite the exhaustion gripping her, Ana feels a thrill at the thought of Christian's "punishment" when he finally arrives. She leaves soft lighting on so he'll more easily find his way to her side. Despite her entire body now humming with delicious anticipation, Ana is asleep within minutes.

She wakes as Christian is climbing into bed. Suddenly, all Ana's courage leaves her, because she doesn't need it when he's with her. Moving into his welcoming arms, she cannot stop the tears falling. Fatigue evident in his voice, Christian says, "Hey, it's okay, baby. Please don't cry. It's all over."

Looking up at him, touching one hand to his cheek as if to make sure he's real, Ana says, "I know. I'm just…I'm _very_ glad you're home."

Kissing her hand and then gently wiping the tears from her face, Christian smiles and says, "Me, too. I'm so sorry that you had to deal with this alone."

Smiling, Ana says, "I didn't. Luke and Ryan were wonderful and Gail has been keeping me company while you were gone."

"Ryan is very impressed with you. If he weren't happily married, I'd be worried."

Wondering how even his jealous streak now makes her feel loved, Ana says, "Shouldn't you be kissing me by now, Mr. Grey?"

* * *

Ana wakes to the sound of music. At first confused, she works out that Christian found her "Missing him" playlist and set it as her alarm in the iPod dock. At the sound, the man in questions appears from the bathroom, naked as the day he was born and brushing his teeth. Pulling the brush from his mouth for a moment, Christian grins and says, "Missed me, huh?"

Wondering how the hell he can still look sexy with traces of white foam around his mouth, Ana teases, "What makes you think it's about you?"

His eyes narrowing, Christian scrubs his mouth clean with one hand and approaches, saying, "This is the tone you want to set for my first morning back, Mrs. Grey?"

Recognizing that he's not actually angry, Ana offers no resistance as he covers her body with his, the bedding between them. Brazenly sliding her hands down to rest on his butt, she purrs, "Abso-fucking-lutely."

Unable to maintain his glower, Christian grins and says, "You stole my line." Quickly kissing her with too-minty breath, he suddenly rolls off her, saying, "Turn over."

Knowing that, as always, he'll be concerned about whether or not he went too far last night, Ana sighs and says, "It's fine, Christian. I'm sure that, by now, I'd be able to feel if there was any actual damage."

Tossing the toothbrush aside, Christian shrugs and says, "Still…."

Rolling her eyes at his overprotectiveness, Ana does as bid, saying, "I sincerely hope you'll eventually get over this. I'm not made of glass, Christian."

Dragging the covers from her body, Christian tenderly kisses her back and says, "No, more like fine crystal; exquisitely beautiful and surprisingly durable, but ultimately fragile and to be handled with great care."

As Christian continues the inspection with his lips on her skin, apparently kissing every pink stripe, Ana giggles and says, "Mmm…I guess I can live with that." Her toes curling in response to the pleasure spreading through her body, she adds, "Not that I'm complaining, but we're going to be late for work if you keep doing that."

Again covering her body with his, Christian's lips are by her ear when he softly growls, "Then you shouldn't have rolled your fucking eyes at me."

This is him; her lover. She knows him by the delicious threat in his voice, this iron grip on her wrists as he immobilizes her arms, the overwhelming strength of his legs entwining and capturing hers like a python ensnares its prey, and the promise of his erection pressing against where she most wants him to be. Well on her way to climax just at the aggressiveness of his foreplay, Ana moans, "Please, darling, please."

Never one to give in too easily, Christian torturously slowly enters her and almost gently starts moving inside her, even as he teases her neck and shoulders with his mouth, sending shudders of pleasure rippling through her entire body, until it's almost too much. Finally giving in to urges that have driven men since before they walked upright, Christian adjusts his position and slams into her captive body, even as his teeth close on her already sensitive flesh. Ana screams in ecstasy as he hits that spot deep within her that is meant only for him. That primal sound is enough to shatter what remains of his control and the man disappears, leaving only the animal.

Only seconds later, they're both spent and collapse, gasping, until Christian seems to remember where he is. Immediately relaxing his vice-like grip on her limbs and lifting some of his weight from her body, he asks, "Okay?"

Surprised that it obeys her command, given that her entire body feels as if the bones have melted, Ana reaches one hand behind her to touch the side of his face, saying, "You need to stop asking that. I'm better than okay; I'm blissful."

Removing himself and dropping on his side next to her, even as Ana turns to face him, Christian grins and says, "I told you we didn't need that questionnaire; like a freight train…an express freight train."

Ana slaps his chest in reproof and says, "Not nice. I'm glad you're back."

Still with a self-satisfied smile, Christian says, "Yes, you said."

"At 3am I was glad that my husband is back from New York. I'm talking about my Fifty Shades now." At his obvious confusion, Ana explains, "Again, not a complaint, but you've been scarily nice for a long time now; pretty much since we got back together. But you're becoming _him_ again; the man I fell in love with."

"I hope not. I didn't really like him all that much."

"I know, baby. But I love him. And I think you know what I'm talking about; nice Christian wouldn't have dared take me like you just did."

That achingly familiar gesture of shame in the twitch of his shoulders and Christian says, "Yeah, I guess so. I think it's that I'm no longer terrified of you leaving. Though I did have a ball-shriveling, sweat-inducing nightmare to that effect while I was away, so the fear lingers." At her immediate concern, he quickly adds, "Hey, I sleep better now than I ever have, thanks to you. Please don't stress about that."

Actually reassured, Ana says, "Okay, thank you. Anything I can do to make the fear go away forever?"

Only love in his eyes, Christian says, "Keep doing what you're doing. I'm astounded that you're still here after all you've endured because of me…and apparently will continue to endure, if this week is anything to go by. I'm so sor..."

Resting her fingertips on his lips to forestall yet another apology, Ana says, "Sshh. Please, baby, it's not your fault. I can cope with anything if you're on my side."

Finding and kissing the platinum bands on her left hand, Christian vows, "Always." Suddenly reaching around to slap her butt, Christian commands, "Now get your pink ass in the shower. I want to have breakfast with my wife before I go to work."

Already moving to obey, Ana "protests", "Of course, there was a lot to be said for Nice Christian. He didn't smack me as much, for one thing."

Retrieving his toothbrush, Christian heads back into the bathroom as he says, "Sounds incredibly boring. I'm glad he's gone."

Over an admittedly hurried breakfast, Ana remembers and says, "Oh, Mia called while you were away. She guessed that I'd be feeling bad about missing your birthday, so…" When Christian groans and drops his head to the table, Ana laughs and continues, "I'm afraid so; a small party at your parents' place this Saturday evening." With a twinge of guilt, she adds, "Mia said you wouldn't even see anyone on your birthday."

Reaching across the table for her hand, Christian says, "Hey, if I'm not allowed to apologize, you mustn't either. It's in the past."

Forcing a smile for his sake, Ana says, "Fair enough. So, you'll cooperate?"

Another groan and Christian says, "If Mia's running the show, I'll have little choice. For now, we'd better make a move. If you're quick brushing your teeth, I'll walk you down."

As they're heading to the bedroom, Ana asks, "How come before breakfast?"

"My dentist said it's a good idea. Yours doesn't?"

"I haven't been in years. My teeth are fine."

"Your teeth are perfect. But you should still visit the dentist. I'll set up an appointment."

"Yes, Sir."

Glaring at her, Christian cautions, "Don't start, or we really will be late."

Her body pleasantly aching from their mid-morning and early morning love-making, Ana realizes that she really does need a break, so resists the urge to further provoke him. After managing to keep their hands off each other even in the elevator, they part ways with a tender kiss; Ana leaving with Sawyer and Christian with Reynolds. Before getting in the R8, Christian blows Ana a kiss. Happier than she ever thought possible, she returns the gesture.

Relaxing in the car as Sawyer drives her to GP, Ana ponders out loud, "This is as close to normal as we can expect, isn't it?"

"Uh, you and Mr. Grey? Yes, I guess so. Neither of you will ever be ordinary."

Smiling, Ana says, "Luke, did you just pay me a compliment?"

Also smiling, Sawyer says, "I wouldn't dare."

Amazingly carefree, despite knowing that it's probably fleeting, given who she's married to, Ana jokes, "Don't worry; I won't tell Christian."

A small nod with his gaze meeting hers in the rear vision mirror, and Sawyer says, "In that case, Ana, I think you're extraordinary; we all do."

The sincerity in his voice wasn't what she was expecting and Ana says, "Oh. Well, thank you…to all of you."

"You're welcome, Ana."

Still happy, but a little subdued, Ana lets Sawyer run through protocol for getting her safely to her office. It's not yet lunchtime when Adam calls, saying, "Bad news, I'm afraid. Some cop leaked an arrest warrant, citing extortion and defamation of character, that lists Christian Grey as the complainant."

Silently running through the worst curse words she knows, Ana says, "Have you talked to him?"

"Yes. He's concerned that you might be harassed by the press and asked me to run you through procedure."

"Procedure?"

"Well, it can barely be called that; basically, you utter 'No comment' to anyone who asks you about it and we hope it goes away."

"And, if it doesn't?"

"I consult with GEH public relations team as to whether it's worth putting you or Christian in front of a camera, or just issue a press statement."

Her phone alerts her to an incoming call, so Ana says, "Uh, that's probably Christian trying to get through. Anything else?"

"No, that'll do for now. Just remember 'no comment'."

"Got it. Thanks, Adam."

Quickly permitting the other call, Ana isn't surprised to hear Christian's voice saying, "Did Garth call you?"

"No comment."

Proving that he's understood, Christian chuckles and says, "That's my girl. Am I allowed to apologize for this?"

"No. Still not your fault. You're doing the best you can."

"I'm glad you realize that. Mostly it seems like I keep fucking up. But I am trying to make your life as easy as possible."

Soothed just by the sound of his voice, Ana says, "Everything is easier with you. Nothing seemed to work properly while you were gone."

In an awestruck tone, Christian reveals, "I know what you mean. I couldn't…I was off my game when I got to New York. If I hadn't been able to talk to you every day, I think that I would have folded and come home with my tail between my legs. Everything you do seems like it should make me weaker, but somehow it makes me stronger."

"I know, baby, I know. You're my strength, too."

Christian groans and says, "You know, I probably have enough money that I could buy a tropical island somewhere and we could live for several years without seeing another fucking person."

Smiling at the delightful image, Ana says, "Let's call that Plan C. For now, we both need to get back to work."

"What's Plan B?"

Surprised that he's forgotten, Ana says, "Chaining me to the wall of your dungeon."

"Oh, great; now I have to get back to work with that incredibly distracting image in my head."

Ana giggles and says, "If you're trying to tell me that your thoughts weren't already along those lines, I'll have to call you a liar."

Christian chuckles and says, "Yeah, fair enough. Fuck you soon, baby."

"Not very romantic, Mr. Grey."

"Mrs. Grey, if you're telling me that you'd prefer it any other way, I'll have to call _you_ a liar."

"You're right. Do you have time for lunch?"

Suddenly in CEO mode, Christian says, "Not today. Hopefully next week. And I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

"Oh, what time; ballpark figure?"

"Not sure, baby. I'll call you when I'm leaving, okay?"

"Okay. At which point I will go into the playroom and chain myself to that cross thingy, wearing only high heels and lacy panties, so you'd better not be late."

Another groan and Christian says, "God, fucking save me. How am I supposed to…? You're a very cruel woman."

Joyful laughter threatening to drown out her words, Ana says, "I love you, too. I'll see you tonight."

"Until tonight, my love."

* * *

Author's note: I won't write the upcoming birthday party, because EL James already did so. If you need a recap, skip to Chapter Twenty-two of Fifty Shades Darker and ignore the references to Hyde or the helicopter crash, because neither are in my version. I'll remind you in a note on the next installment, that Christian is supposedly done with Elena and his parents now know about his past. Do not expect a vengeful, murderous Elena with apparently limitless powers. I don't see her that way. But she'll be back.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Christian has seemed unsettled all evening, and consistently evaded Ana's attempts to find out why, so she puts down her cutlery and says, "I'm not eating another thing until you tell me what's wrong."

With a cheeky grin, Christian says, "Won't do you any good. We both know you like it when I feed you." When Ana merely glares at him, her arms crossed in defiance, he sighs and says, "Fine. She wants to meet with me; the…my former sub, Angie."

Her heart beating fast enough that the sound is just a blur in her ears, Ana swallows and says, "Then I presume you have an excellent reason for considering it?"

"How do you know…oh, because it's bothering me." With a quiet smile, Christian says, "You're so smart." His somber mood returning in the next instant, he continues, "Yes, she's agreeing to give us enough on her Dom to make him do actual jail time for the extortion. Without her testimony, he'll probably just receive a fine or suspended sentence. I'm filing a civil suit. But that's more of a grand gesture, to prove that I'm serious. Since no real losses were incurred, we're not expecting much compensation. We'd get more if I argued that you suffered trauma, but that would mean you'd have to get involved." With a fierce grin, he adds, "And that's not going to fucking happen. What do you think, baby?"

"Any idea why she needs to actually see you?"

"She probably wants to apologize, but I'm not sure. I haven't even spoken to her in a little over three years. When I knew her she was a good person; honest and discreet. I'd be shocked if this blackmail attempt was her idea. All I know is that her attorney says she wants to talk."

"And it's better for us if the man does time?"

"Much. It will send a very clear 'Don't fuck with me' message."

Ana considers for a while and then says, "Okay."

Christian stares at her, mouth agape, for several seconds before saying, "Okay? You're fine with me having a chat with someone I used to beat and fuck in this very building?"

Her mind running screaming from the images this conjures up, Ana reflexively swallows and says, "Well, I wish you hadn't put it quite like that, and please don't ever do so again. But, yes; on one condition."

Somehow he guesses and is shaking his head as he says, "No way. No _fucking_ way, Ana. You're not getting involved."

Opposing his rising agitation with an equally adamant serenity, Ana says, "I'm already involved. And, if we're sending a message, it needs to be one of solidarity. I'm coming with you."

"Then I won't see her."

Again crossing her arms, Ana counters, "Then I'll wait for the next blackmail letter, or news article, or unscripted question about your past. Your secret will come out eventually, Christian. When it does, I'll be by your side, challenging everyone to prove that you're anything other than a caring, loving husband who's dynamite in the bedroom and the playroom. You haven't done anything wrong. I'm not prepared to let anyone think I'm ashamed of you…of us."

He tries to maintain the glare, but Ana watches as it softens to a look of quiet pride. He points to her plate with his knife handle and says, "Eat."

Somehow sensing that she's won, Ana still asks, "I can come with you?"

"Only if you eat."

Magnanimous in victory, Ana resumes her meal in silence. Not until they're finished and Christian is, as always, assisting her from the chair, does he say, "Thank you."

* * *

Not sure what she'd been expecting, clearly not this vision of efficiency before her, Ana is struck by how normal Angie looks; brown hair and eyes, of course a similar build to Ana, and dressed in a smart, feminine business suit. Apart from not being blonde, she actually fits in pretty well at Grey House. They've agreed to meet in a vacant conference room; the woman consenting to a pat down by Taylor and accompanied by her lawyer.

Similarly accompanied by an attorney, who just happens to be his good friend Brit Hertz, Christian doesn't relinquish Ana's hand even when they sit down opposite their "guests". Brit nods to his colleague and says, "Tim. Would you like to get the ball rolling?"

"Uh, yes. Thank you, Mr. Grey, for consenting to this, given that it's somewhat irregular. My client would like to make a short statement. I've explained that you are under no obligation to reply in any way." Sliding a folder across the table to Brit, he explains, "This is a copy of her full statement to the police. I've been instructed to submit it when we leave here, no matter the outcome of this…meeting. As you can see, it's already signed."

Brit is about to open and read the document when Christian puts his hand on it to stop him, saying, "She's never lied to me."

Clearly out of his element, Tim retrieves the folder as he says, "Uh, well. Okay. I'll be outside."

When the door clicks shut, Angie finds the courage to meet Christian's gaze, saying, "Thank you, sir."

"It's 'Mr. Grey' now, Ms. Fleet."

Angie nods and looks at Ana, saying, "You're even prettier in person."

Christian's voice of doom, familiar to everyone present, calmly promises, "If you address my wife directly again, we're leaving."

Dropping her gaze to her suddenly nervously wringing hands, Angie says, "Sorry, s…Mr. Grey."

"Just say your piece, so we can get on with putting that vicious bastard behind bars." That gets her attention. At her confusion, Christian says, "You haven't changed. And the Angie I knew would _never_ consent to this. He must have forced you."

Her eyes filling with tears at his compassion, Angie reveals, "I heard the news of your marriage and mentioned that I knew you. He guessed how. When I wouldn't give him any details, he locked me up for three days without water. I couldn't…I'm sorry. I barely knew what I was saying by then. I fled as soon as I could. I didn't even know what he'd done until the police arrested me."

When Ana starts squirming in distress and opens her mouth to speak, Christian taps her hand twice where it still rests in his. When she settles down at his silent reassurance, he says, "It's all right, Angie. I don't blame you."

"Thank you. Would you please apologize to Mrs. Grey, too?"

When Ana taps Christian twice, he glares at her. So she repeats their secret code and sees the wary acceptance in his eyes. Satisfied that he's not too upset, Ana says to Angie, "Is there anything we can do for you? I mean, do you need help to get further away from the man?"

A glance at Christian brings a curt nod in reply, so Angie smiles at Ana and says, "No, thank you. I have friends. I'll be fine."

Clearly impatient to be elsewhere, Christian says, "That it?"

"Yes, thank you. It's good to see you happy."

Ana can't stop herself from asking, "He wasn't before?"

This time, when Angie silently asks permission of Christian, he rolls his eyes and says, "Go ahead."

Smiling, Angie says, "No, ma'am. He was caring, considerate and passionate…at times a lot of fun, but not happy. I can see the difference in him. Clearly you're what had been missing from his life."

Genuinely moved, Ana says, "Thank you, for that. I hope you find happiness, too." Squeezing Christian's hand in reassurance, she starts to stand, saying, "I'll wait outside."

Christian, however, clasps her hand even tighter and, his voice almost a plea, says, "I've nothing to say to Ms. Fleet that you can't hear."

So that he'll know she's okay with the idea, Ana kisses his forehead and says, "I know that, darling. But Angie has something she needs to tell _you_."

Christian glances at Angie, to see Ana's theory confirmed in the shock on the woman's face. He smiles and says, "Did I mention that my wife reads minds?" Without even looking at the man, he says, "Taylor?"

"Mrs. Grey is safe in this building."

It's a flat-out refusal. Before Christian has a chance to react, Brit is getting to his feet, saying, "I'd be happy to keep you company, Ana." To Angie, he adds, "Mr. Taylor is the most discreet person in this room."

It's not clear who Angie is talking to when she says, "Thank you."

Without making a conscious decision on their destination, Ana leads Brit to Christian's office. Once there, he grabs the nearest chair and brings it closer to her. She smiles and says, "I'm fine, thanks."

His expression one of aching concern, Brit gently commands, "Sit down before you fall down, Ana. You're as white as a sheet."

As if his words are permission, the trembling starts, and Ana is gasping with the effort of not weeping. With only a nod in reply, she complies before the waves of dizziness and nausea consume her. Satisfied that the danger has passed, Brit leaves her side, but returns only seconds later with a glass of water. His permanent expression of woe compels her to drink the lot before saying, "Thank you. I'm okay, now."

Finally able to smile, Brit says, "No, you're amazing. Anything else I can do?"

Ana chokes on her laugh and says, "A week without drama would be nice."

"I'm afraid that not even Chris can seem to manage that. But how about we girls go shopping this weekend?"

"Thanks, B. But I don't actually enjoy shopping all that much."

With a grimace, Brit says, "Me, neither; deadly dull, with almost no chance of drama."

Catching on, Ana beams at him and says, "Sounds perfect, thank you. Okay if a friend joins us?"

"Of course."

They arrange a time and Ana is texting Kate the details when Christian enters. He doesn't even acknowledge Brit. But squats down before Ana and gently pushes a stray strand of hair from her cheek as he warily asks, "Are we okay?"

Smiling at the fact that she's stealing Brit's line, Ana says, "No, we're amazing. All done?"

Christian stands and declares, "All done." He hands Brit a slip of paper and says, "These names are men who may have received similar threats, but wouldn't talk to Angie. Let them know they're safe. Keep my name out of it."

Brit nods, but then says, "Tim could have done this for her."

"Possibly. But she was reluctant to trust him with it."

Ana smiles and says, "Plus, she needed to know that you don't hate her."

"Why would I hate her?"

For some reason finding it incredibly funny that Christian still seems unaware how many people love him, Ana is fighting laughter as says, "You wouldn't. You couldn't." Determined to put the whole, sordid business behind them, she brightens and says, "Brit's taking Kate and I shopping on Saturday; straight after my driving lesson."

"Does he know you don't like shopping?"

"Yes. We expect it to be incredibly boring."

She sees comprehension in Christian's eyes, and he asks, "Will one afternoon be enough?"

Brimming with love that he understands how much she needs this, and doesn't seem to mind, Ana warmly says, "Thank you. I'll let you know."

Christian stands to bid his friend a grateful goodbye. Brit stops Ana from standing, instead kissing her forehead and saying, "Take it easy. I'll see you on Saturday."

When the door shuts on the world, it's evident that Christian feels the need for a show of strength even in front of his best friend. Because it's as if something leaves his body, making him appear smaller. Without a word, he drops to his knees before Ana and lays his head on her lap, his arms gently encircling her waist. Shocked at the display, she can't react for a couple of seconds, and then starts gently running her fingers through his hair. When he still says nothing, Ana manages to instill a note of reproof in her voice when she "admonishes" him, "This feels suspiciously like an apology, Mr. Grey."

"Maybe."

"I'm okay, Christian. It was a bit of a shock. But she seems really sweet. That man won't be able to hurt her again, right? He'll be in prison for a very long time."

This intimate with Christian, she actually feels the sudden tension in him. Eventually, he says, "With her testimony, and Brit's machinations, he'll probably get the maximum for extortion; twelve months."

Wondering if she's misheard, Ana echoes, "Months?"

"Yeah. Her contract with him was such that Brit says none of her allegations would stand up in court. She's doing this – potentially putting herself in danger – to influence the sentence and make sure the fucker does jail time, for us…for me."

Finally understanding why he's so upset, Ana grips Christian's hair and lifts his gaze to hers, so she can see his expression when she says, "That's not your fault. Do you hear me? She chose him. It was clearly a poor choice. But her welfare is no longer your responsibility. I'm sure Angie would say the same thing."

Managing a ghost of a smile, Christian reveals, "Angie did. _She_ won't let me apologize, either."

Satisfied with what she sees in his eyes, Ana says, "Still, we'll do what we can to keep her safe, right?"

Now the one warily studying his partner's face, Christian cautiously reveals, "Taylor's volunteered to keep tabs on him, at our expense, but without my involvement other than that. I'll only give him permission if you're okay with it."

With a shrug, Ana says, "We might as well. Jason will just do it as his own expense if we don't."

Christina finally manages a real smile and says, "Yes, you're probably right. God, I wish that I could just take you home right now."

"Busy day?"

"Incredibly. I'll probably be late again. I'm still allowed to apologize for _that_, right?"

Smiling at his quip, Ana quickly formulates a plan that may help them both cope, and says, "Actually, today's not too busy for me. How about I let Gail know that I'd like to cook tonight? I could leave early and, when you get home, we'll switch off all our phones, eat dinner together and sit around the house…maybe even watch TV, like an old married couple."

With a grin, further proving that he's healing, Christian says, "And maybe end up in the playroom?"

Ana laughs, from relief and joy, then says, "Okay; like an old married, _kinky_ couple."

Suddenly standing and drawing Ana into his embrace, Christian says, "Sounds perfect." His voice heavy with emotion, he then asks, "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

She hasn't felt the need for a while, but Ana doesn't hesitate to take one of his hands and place it over her heart, even as she rests a hand on his chest and says, "No more than I love you."

* * *

Satisfied that the dinner is ready, Ana turns off the oven. She's about to remove her apron when arms envelope her waist from behind and Christian's voice says "Leave it. I like it; domestic is a good look on you," just as Norah Jones softly croons in her ear-buds, "_Like a light bulb in a dark room_."

Laughing, Ana offers him one of the buds. Christian listens for a few seconds, smiles and asks, "Is that a request, Mrs. Grey?"

Leaning back against him, promising more, Ana says, "Later. Dinner is ready."

Christian kisses Ana's neck, just below her ear, seriously messing with her equilibrium, before releasing her. When she turns to face him, he removes the bud from her other ear and says, "Reminds me; you need to ease back on these things. I'll have a technician put an iPod dock in every room, so you won't end up deaf."

"I don't have it very loud, Christian."

Again wrapping his arms around her waist, Christian says, "Are you going to argue? Because I'd rather not spend the evening consulting the research into the consequences of spending hours every day with even moderately loud, concentrated sound assaulting your ears."

He's obviously thought this one out, so Ana says, "No. That's okay. I'm sure you're right."

Grinning his victory, Christian tightens his embrace and says, "Baby, I'm always right."

Giggling at his playful manner, so different from this morning, Ana jokes, "Yes, Sir."

As always, her affectionate teasing awakens his passion. Christian stares down at her for a few seconds, then kisses her and takes a step back, saying, "Okay; dinner. What are we having?"

With a smug grin, Ana reveals, "Mac and cheese; Taylor's recipe."

His face transformed by a joyful smile, Christian says, "Marry me."

Ana laughs again as she readies the meal, saying, "I did."

With their meals on trays, Ana picks up hers and says, "Follow me."

Clearly amused, Christian grabs the other tray and does as bid. When they bypass the dining room, he says, "We're eating in front of the TV, aren't we?"

"Yes; like normal people."

With Christian not giving a damn, Ana has possession of the remote control. Eventually finding one of her favorite crime shows, she starts eating, only to see that Christian is almost finished. When she laughs, he looks up, realizes why and says, with his mouth full, "Good."

Shaking her head as she resumes her meal, Ana affectionately accuses, "Caveman."

Before Ana has finished, Christian leaves with his empty plate and returns with a second helping. Mirroring her smile, he sits down as he says, "_Very_ good." Leaning over to kiss her cheek, he adds, "Maybe we don't need Gail after all."

Ana knows he's not serious, but "protests", "Oh, no you don't; I _have_ a job. I'm not spending my days serving you."

Wondering why her brain would betray her like that, Ana's own words remind her of Angie. Refusing to examine the connection, she tries to focus on the fictional hunt for the murderer. But an echo of her concern remains, and she's picking at her food when Christian gently says, "Sweetheart, just ask me."

Somehow, his compassion acts as a command on her emotions. Putting aside her plate with suddenly trembling fingers, Ana moves into his arms as she says, "I will, thank you. But just hold me for a while."

Adjusting his position for her comfort, he does exactly that. Ana manages to keep the tears at bay and, when her breathing becomes more relaxed, Christian says, "Baby, if you're okay, can you sit up a little? You're resting on two large helpings of mac and cheese." Giggling, Ana is already complying, and he adds, "Thank you."

Finally composed, Ana claims one of Christian's hands for strength and says, "He would have…she must have been under a full-time contract, right? No way could a woman with friends be held captive for three days, otherwise."

Christian nods and says, "Yes. It's why we terminated our relationship. She was happy for a while. But what Angie really needs is a Dom who'll be there for her, twenty-four hours a day. She doesn't function too well without that kind of…direction."

"But…she seems so smart and capable."

Smiling, Christian says, "Like you."

"But I'm not a sub."

"No, but you _do_ submit, so you know better than most that intelligence doesn't preclude a need to surrender. Angie's need is greater, or more acute, but she's still a bright, talented woman. I'm surprised that you're surprised. Did you think I'd be attracted to dullards?"

Realizing that he's right; the fact that he encourages and is always proud of her accomplishments is an indication that he wouldn't have settled for less. Ana is now at ease and smiles as she says, "That's an old-fashioned word."

Also smiling, Christian caresses her cheek for a moment and purrs, "I'm an old-fashioned guy."

Recognizing his altered mood, Ana says, "I'm not done talking yet, and you're too full for whatever image is behind those eyes."

Christian chuckles and says, "Fair enough. Any other questions? And can this count as our twenty minutes?"

"Good idea. Uh…are you and Taylor okay, after he refused you today?"

"Yes. I fired him again. We're fine, now." As if remembering something, Christian asks, "Oh, how did you know that Angie needed to speak to me in private?"

"Well, you'd already said she was a good person when you knew her. And I could see immediately that you were right. There's no way the woman you described would blackmail you into a face-to-face. She was going to testify whether or not you agreed. So I figured she must have had a good reason for apparently acting out of character; a secret that she felt reluctant to share with anyone but you seemed the most likely option."

Christian gazes at her with only love for several seconds, and then warmly says, "And you must know that, if our situations were reversed, there is no way in hell I could have done what you did today; certainly not with your grace and class."

Blushing, and mildly annoyed that it's still so easy for him to do that to her, Ana can't quite meet his eyes when she asks, "You think I have class?"

Apparently in earnest, Christian lifts her gaze to his with a gentle hand under her chin and says, "I do. You're a genuine lady. I am daily in awe of you, and eternally grateful that you tolerate my presence."

It's almost too much. Ana's chest actually aching with love for him, she says, "I'm not taking my tray back to the kitchen."

The air between them suddenly crackling with sexual tension, Christian calmly asks, "No?"

Shaking her head, Ana manages not to smile as she adamantly declares, "No."

When Christian glances at her plate, Ana guesses that he's calculating whether she's eaten enough for health, and if it's too much for comfort when they play. In that moment, Ana realizes that she now loves even this obsessive attention to detail. When his gaze returns to hers, Dominant Christian is staring at her as he commands, "Then you know what to do."

* * *

Where credit's due: Norah Jones song is Turn Me on.

To allysmum, for the term "old married, kinky couple". Thank you.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Christian Grey! What have you done to my phone now?"

Looking up from his computer screen, Christian smiles at Ana, taking in the fact that she appears to be wearing only that kimono-style robe and is fresh from her morning shower. Shaking his head to clear the image of what her body looks like beneath the thin layer of silk, he says, "Sorry, baby, what's wrong with your phone?"

Not quite slamming her BlackBerry down on his desk, she says, "Exactly what I'd like to know. Why am I getting reminders and how do I make them stop?"

"I synced our calendars. You'll know when I have appointments outside of work hours, any upcoming business trips, that sort of thing; and I can add stuff to your schedule." Picking up the device and opening her calendar, he points to the current one and says, "Like this: you've got training with Bastille tonight."

"And when did we discuss this?"

"Before we got married. You said that you'd like to start training when things settle down." With a wry grin, Christian says, "Things are about as settled as they'll ever be for us."

"But what if I already have an appointment when you add something?"

"I talked to your assistant." At her glare, he adds, "Only on the phone, and only about this. She's familiar with the format and will make sure there are no clashes." Frowning a little, Christian asks, "Why are you so upset? We're both busy people, and I don't want either of us worrying needlessly about the other because of miscommunications. If I'm apparently MIA, you can just check my schedule and see that I'm…I dunno; at a symposium on green energy with my phone switched off and forgot to mention that I'll be late."

Losing some of her steam, because she knows very well that, of the two of them, she's far more likely to commit such an omission, Ana asks, "Well, how do I add stuff to _your_ schedule?"

Immediately wary, Christian says, "Like what?"

"Uh, I don't know. But it's possible."

"In that unlikely event, call Andrea and she'll take care of it."

"What happened to Linda?"

"She's my secretary. Andrea is my assistant."

"Just how many women do you have beneath…? That was a poor choice of words, wasn't it?"

Sensing that the danger has passed, Christian hooks two fingers in the sash around her waist and pulls Ana towards him, spreading his knees to accommodate her, and jokes, "I like it when you're jealous; makes me feel all warm and loved."

Fighting a losing the battle against her libido, Ana says, "I'm still mad at you for tampering with my phone yet again."

Clearly unconcerned, Christian smilingly asks, "Why? This is a good idea and you know it."

"It is, but you still should have asked me."

Slowly untying the sash, Christian asks, "Because?"

The familiar heat spreading outward from her groin at his seductive tone, Ana says, "Because it's polite."

Spreading the robe wide, his palms gliding over her torso to her hips as he does so, Christian says, "And when have I ever claimed to be polite?"

Leaning against him, laughing when the chair moves slightly under their combined weight, Ana says, "Excellent point, Mr. Grey. Unfortunately, for both of us, I don't have time for whatever you've just started."

"Well, you sure as fuck won't want to after Bastille is finished with you. He's merciless." Despite his words, Christian's hands cease their meandering and he just smiles up at her.

There is simply no way Ana can ignore that shining, silent plea in his eyes. But she's already running late after spending too long trying to solve the phone mystery. On impulse, she grins and says, "One ass grab and a titty suck; that's it."

Christian's eyes widen in delight at this new game, and he quickly haggles, "T_wo_ titty sucks." With a cheeky grin, he adds, "Don't want the other to get jealous."

Ana giggles and says, "Fair enough. Deal."

As his hands resume their path towards her bare butt, Christian says, "Truly a pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Grey."

* * *

Christian is on the phone when he gets the "911" text from Taylor. Immediately ending the call, he phones the man, his heart in his throat, and asks, "Ana?"

An uncharacteristic edge to his voice, Taylor clips, "No. Jen didn't pick up Sophie, and isn't answering her cell. Ryan's on his way."

"Fuck. I'll be right there."

By the time Christian reaches the lobby, Taylor knows more and says, "Northwest Hospital. She's been in a car accident. That's all they'll tell me."

Quickly processing all the information, including the fact that Taylor is a little pale, Christian nods and says, "Call the school. Tell 'em that Gail will pick up Sophie. Then tell Gail and Ryan what's going on." When Taylor starts to do as bid, Christian adds, "From the car."

"Right. Thank you, sir."

Already striding towards the parking garage, Christian says, "And cut that shit out."

Pushing the envelope of safe, city driving, Christian makes it to the hospital by the time Taylor has finished his phone calls. He screeches to a halt at the entrance and says, "I'll find you." And then he remembers and adds, "Oh, fuck; they'll make you fill out forms. Make sure you use the expense account, okay?"

"Sir, that's not necess…" The look on his boss' face punches through what little strength he has left and Taylor says only "Okay, thanks," as he exits the car.

After parking, illegally, Christian finds Taylor in the waiting room and asks, "Anything?"

"She's in surgery. They're trying to save her spleen."

"Fuck! But we can live without that one, right?"

Managing a weak smile, Taylor reveals, "I have for several years."

"Okay. Wait here. I'll see what I can do about getting her into private care."

"No need. A credit card with your name on it worked wonders."

"It should. I've paid for a fair chunk of this hospital." Eyeing the reception desk, Christian adds, "However, I'll just make sure she's getting the best care. Still Jennifer Taylor?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

Ryan has shown up to take over Christian's protection, and they're each nursing a cup of disgusting coffee when Christian sees Gail enter, holding the hand of a young, blonde girl. Though he's never met Sophie, this can only be her. He nudges Taylor and holds out a hand for the coffee cup. Determined to give the doting father what privacy he can in a crowded hospital waiting room, he stays put and looks on as the big man rushes towards them, dropping to one knee just before Sophie runs into his arms, squealing, "Daddy!"

Christian can't quite make out words in the ensuing babble from the child, or Taylor's responses. But he sees him blindly reach out a hand and Gail accept it; her face a study in quiet concern. Watching them, he realizes they're a family, though they don't live together, and he wonders why he didn't guess how much Taylor needs his daughter. Suddenly missing Ana so much he almost can't breathe, Christian catches Gail's eye and shows his phone on the way out the door, so she'll know where he's gone. Ana answers on the third ring, saying, "Christian. What a lovely surprise."

Just her voice is enough to ease his pain, and he says, "I'm fine. But Taylor's wife…ex-wife, has been in an accident. We're at Northwest and…"

"Oh, God; Sophie!"

"Sophie's fine. She was at school. Gail just brought her here and I was…"

"Is Taylor okay? We'll pay for this, right? You won't let him…"

"For fuck's sake, woman! I'm trying to finish a sentence here." When this outburst is met by only silence, Christian says, "Thank you. I was wondering if you'd be able to meet me here. I don't want to leave until I know his ex is all right."

"I'm already heading out the door. I'll be there as soon as I safely can. Good enough?"

Relief flooding through him, Christian says, "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry that I snapped. Hospitals…they're a reminder of pain."

"I imagine so. I'm on my way. Did you call your Mom?"

"She's a pediatrician, Ana."

"Yes. She's also a friend of Taylor's and will be concerned about him."

"Friend?"

"Baby, she's known Jason almost as long as you have."

"I suppose so. Okay, I'll call her. And you're on your way?"

"Yes, darling. Try and stay calm, okay? The staff will be just doing their job."

Only slightly indignant, given that her caution is probably warranted, Christian says, "I'll have you know that, until I called you, I hadn't even raised my voice."

Ana giggles and says, "Truly an awesome accomplishment. Do you think the medication is already having an effect?"

"Now, why the fuck would you remind me that I've got that session tomorrow?"

"Sorry about that. And _we've_ got that session. I'll be with you. Try to relax. I'll be there soon."

"Okay. I'd better call Mom. Thanks. Oh, are you okay with Sophie staying at Escala tonight, and maybe sometimes after that? She won't be in the way. I'm sure Taylor will make sure she doesn't stray from the other wing."

Ana is quiet for a few seconds and then says, "I think that's maybe the best idea you've ever had. I love you, Christian."

Inordinately pleased at her praise, Christian says, "Yeah, well; better late than never, I guess. He does a lot for us."

"Did I mention that I love you?"

Smiling, because he has no choice, Christian says, "You did. Now get your ass over here."

A giggling Ana says "Yes, Sir," before hanging up.

After updating a concerned Grace, Christian returns to the waiting room. Sophie is now sitting on her father's lap, Gail beside them and still laying claim to one of Taylor's hands. They all tense slightly on seeing him, which galls, though he's again forced to admit that it's probably warranted. He can tell from their posture that there's been no news. Taylor doesn't stand, but says, "Sophie? This is Mr. Grey. Remember, we talked about him? He's my boss."

Clearly nervous of Christian, but more polite than he'll ever be, Sophie extends a wary hand, saying, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Grey."

Determined to make a good first impression on a person for once in his life, if only because it would please Ana, Christian squats down before them and shakes Sophie's hand as he says, "Sophie; that's a pretty name. I'm Christian. Would you like to visit the gift shop and pick out something special for your Mom?"

Of course, the child immediately turns to her father for guidance, to be told, with a nod, "Stay with Christian, and do as he says. I'll be here when you get back."

A little surprised when the child jumps off her father's lap and readily takes his hand, Christian glances at the adults, to see Taylor looking at him with bemusement, and Gail mouths, "Thank you." Glancing back as the child leads him away, with Ryan shadowing them, Christian sees the two lovers practically fall into each other for comfort, and he feels that same tightness in his chest that Ana isn't here.

Despite Sawyer's expert driving, it seems to Ana that it takes forever to reach the hospital. Of course, he insists on accompanying her, so she then has to wait until he finds a parking space. When he suddenly chuckles, Ana wonders why, and he points at the unmistakable gleam of Christian's R8, now with a bright yellow clamp over one wheel. Ana laughs and says, "Oh, dear. You saw it first. You have to tell him."

Sawyer laughs again and shakes his head, saying, "I'm not that brave, Ana."

"I'll pay you."

Still smiling, the young security officer says, "Not for any amount of money. How about we just pretend we didn't see it?"

"All right for you, but I've resolved to hide nothing from him." When Sawyer says nothing, Ana adds, "Okay, I'll tell him. And you're still a wuss."

Finally seeing a vacant space, Sawyer heads for it as he says, "Yes, ma'am."

Once inside, Ana spots Taylor and Gail. She's heading that way when she hears Christian's voice and soon spots him towering over the crowd. Inexplicably, he's carrying a huge, white teddy bear. And then she sees Sophie, whom she recognizes from the pictures on Taylor's phone. The child is apparently firing off endless questions, all of which Christian is answering in a bored monotone. When he spots Ana, he keeps up the conversation, but without taking his eyes off her. Sophie suddenly releases his hand. That draws his gaze and he relinquishes the giant plush toy to her open-armed request, watching until she's safely with her father. Approaching Ana, he smiles slightly as he says, "I told her that flowers would be more appropriate, but she insisted that her Mom would want that monstrosity. I think maybe I've been played."

Too moved by what she's just seen to immediately speak, Ana rushes into his embrace and kisses him. Before it becomes enough to get them thrown out, she ends the gesture and blurts out, "Your car has been clamped."

Apparently untroubled, Christian laughs and says, "Hello to you, too." And then he grins and leans close to whisper, "You kind of want to fuck me right now, don't you?"

Of course, she does, but teases, "Not even a little bit."

His expression and tone affectionate, Christian says, "Lying, again? You know how I feel about that."

Taking his hand and leading him towards Taylor, Ana promises, "Later."

A few more disgusting cups of coffee and/or tea later and a doctor is finally asking for "Jason Taylor". Thankfully, it's a medic with a genuine bedside manner. On seeing the blonde angel holding Taylor's hand, he says, "You must be Sophie?" At her shy nod, he continues, "Your Mommy is going to be just fine. She's got a bump on her head and her tummy will be sore for a while, so you must be very gentle and only hold her hand, okay? No cuddles until she's feeling better." Another wide-eyed nod and he concludes, "Wanna go see her? She's asking for you."

It's the right tone, because Sophie's only reply is to show the enormous stuffed toy and say, "I got her a bear."

"And it's a beauty. I'm sure that will make her feel better." As if only now remembering that the adults exist, he says to Taylor, "Surgery was a success. Other than that, only mild concussion and abrasions. Jennifer is awake and responsive, but needs rest. So please don't stay long this evening. She'll be here for a few nights, and you can visit her tomorrow."

Taylor's shoulders straighten, as if he's been freed from a terrible burden. After a deep, shuddering sigh, he says, "Thank you." At the last minute, he remembers to turn and give Gail a quick kiss before following the doctor with the bear on one hip and Sophie on the other.

When he's gone, Gail says, in wonder, "He still loves her."

Christian looks at her and says, "Of course he does. He's only been in love with two women since I've known him." When Gail still appears shell-shocked, he adds, "You thought he started fucking you because you're convenient, didn't you?"

"Christian!"

Ignoring his wife's outrage, Christian's gaze is focused on a now blushing Gail when he says, "I suspect that, like me, Jason Taylor does not give his heart easily, but he gives it forever." When Gail still says nothing, he adds, "I think maybe you owe him an apology, possibly even an acceptance."

Shocked, Gail says, "What? How…? He shouldn't have told you."

With a smug grin, Christian says, "He didn't. But he'd have to be a moron not to ask, and I know he's not."

Finally understanding, Ana asks Gail, "He wants to marry you?" And then she laughs and says, "Sorry; didn't mean to suggest that it's a shocking prospect. I just didn't know you two were that serious."

Looking at the corridor where she last saw her lover, Gail says, "Neither did I…not really."

Christian claps his hands once in celebration and says, "Well, I think if we look up 'silver lining', we'd find a description of this scenario. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my car unclamped."

As he gathers Ana in his arms, to say goodbye, she warily pleads, "No Perspex?"

Christian grins and says, "You worried that Ryan and I will duke it out with the clampers? Tempting. But I have a system."

Dubious, Ana asks, "Oh?"

With a grin, Christian reveals, "Yeah. I pay the fine, document everything, and then sue them if they haven't followed the letter of the law. So far, I'm making a profit."

"Considering you could easily buy the company, I'm guessing you don't approve of the clamps?"

Shaking his head, Christian says, "What if I'd been a Mom with a babe-in-arms, visiting a sick relative?"

"In a shiny, black sports car?"

Rolling his eyes, Christian says, "You know what I mean. Staying here?"

"I'll sit with Gail while you work your magic. But can I come home with you? Then they'll have the SUV. We can grab something for dinner on the way home."

"Perfect." Checking that no one can overhear, Christian lowers his voice and says, "I'm glad you're here."

"I would have come anyway, but you're welcome. I'm surprised; you seemed fine even when I got here."

With a shrug, Christian reveals, "Well, I figure if a kid can relax when she knows that her Mom is in surgery, I can suck it up and cope with the waiting room."

"Maybe Sophie should come with us to see Flynn?"

"There you go again. Are you _trying_ to disrupt my calm?"

"No, darling; just easing you into it, so you won't be a wreck tomorrow."

"Can you maybe go easy on me for the rest of the night?"

Knowing exactly what they both need, Ana murmurs, "So long as you don't go easy on _me_."

Christian groans and says, "Fuck it. This time I'll just pay the fine." Quickly kissing her and giving Ryan a silent command to follow him, he says, "Don't go anywhere."

* * *

With everyone full on take-out, Ana has persuaded Christian to let their live-in employees, and Sophie, join them in the media room. For the first time, his widescreen TV is on a family channel. Their three guests have the sofa, while Ana is on Christian's lap in one of the enormous armchairs. Ostensibly behaving himself, he's launching an assault on her senses, gently touching seemingly innocent parts of her body that he knows she responds to; inside her wrist, the crook of her elbow, side of her neck just below the ear. Ana is almost ready to regret suggesting what started as a lovely, relaxing evening when the movie blessedly finishes and Taylor says to Sophie, "Time for bed, Soapy."

Whirling on him at the nickname, Sophie growls, "Daddy!"

Pretending to be afraid, Taylor holds up his hands in surrender and says, "Sorry, Oh Wise One. How would you like to thank our hosts?" Ana watches, amused, as the older-than-her-years child whispers something in her father's ear, and he says, "I think so, but you can ask."

Sophie looks at Christian and asks, "Can I kiss you on the cheek?"

Ana hears his hiss of surprise, but he recovers quickly and says, "Only if you do the same for Ana, or she'll be terribly jealous."

Beaming, Sophie kisses first Ana and then Christian, and asks, "Daddy says you pay for my school?"

Clearly unsure how to reply, Christian glances at Taylor, then says, "Uh, yes. That okay with you?"

Leaning closer for a conspiratorial conversation, Sophie is still audible to everyone when she loudly whispers, "Can you make them get more chicken nuggets? They always run out."

Ignoring Taylor's choked exclamation of horror or mirth, Christian manages to keep a straight face when he asks, "Do you deserve chicken nuggets?"

Sophie gives the matter some thought and says, "Yes."

Finally unable to contain his smile, Christian says, "I'll see what I can do."

This earns him another kiss on the cheek. When he inclines his head towards Ana, Sophie smiles and bestows the same favor on her. They all say goodnight. Christian forestalls Taylor's gratitude, saying, "Take some time off, and let me know if you need anything else."

When they're alone, Christian merely says, "No." At Ana's confusion, he explains, "I've never seen that look before, so it can only mean one thing. We're not ready. Your career is just starting and I'm still a fucking mess."

Ana smiles and says, "Just because I think you were amazing with Sophie, doesn't mean I immediately want to start a family. Though, for the record, I'm more certain than ever that you'll make a wonderful father."

Somewhat appeased, Christian grins and asks, "Still want to fuck me?"

"At least once."

* * *

Author's note: Want me to write the therapy session? It'll contain references to drug use, prostitution, child abuse and even torture. But, if you're game to read it, I'm game to write it. If not, I've got other ideas and can use one of them, instead.

And time for another thankyou to all those who make it impossible for me to do so any other way. I read every comment and reply where I can. It's not why I do this, but it sure makes it a lot more enjoyable, thank you.


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning**: This one contains a fairly detailed account of child abuse (beating). If that may trigger an adverse response in you, please skip it or read it only under controlled circumstances.

* * *

Chapter Five

The incoming call alert shows that it's Doctor Flynn, so Ana answers, "Hey, John. Anything wrong?"

"Nothing like that, Ana. I'm just making sure you're ready for today. I've been focused on Christian's preparations, but this is going to be rough on you, too. So I wanted to check that you're an informed participant."

Breathing a sigh of relief that it's nothing to worry about, Ana says, "Of course your focus should be on Christian. Thank you, for that. I'm fine. We've talked about it. He's nervous, but no sign of panic. I think maybe the medication is helping."

"Good. Excellent. Forgive my pedantry, but could you explain to me what you expect to happen?"

Smiling at his concern, Ana says, "We'll meet you at your offices; on time, because it's Christian. You'll take a few minutes to again explain the treatment, and make sure he's still willing to go ahead, and the rest is up to him. I'm to remain silent while he speaks, unless it's becoming too much for me, because you'll be busy monitoring Christian's stress levels. But it won't be too much. If he can live it, I can hear it. I just want him to not carry this burden anymore."

Flynn is quiet for a few seconds and says, "He's a lucky man."

"I'm a lucky woman. You sure that you're okay with me being there?"

Flynn chuckles and says, "I seriously doubt it would make a difference it I wasn't. But, yes, I was thrilled when Christian said you'd volunteered. The whole point is to get him to a place where he can relive the memories without his amygdala joining the party. You appear to have a calming effect on him, so your very presence should help ensure our success. If we can keep his body from going into 'fight or flight', he'll be able to heal and life will easier for both of you."

"See? Now doesn't that sound like something worth enduring some horror stories?"

Flynn laughs again, a gentle, relaxed sound and says, "Yes, it does. But I'm serious about you needing to tell me if it's getting too much for you. There's little point in getting Christian to the point where he no longer needs therapy, if the process leaves you a gibbering wreck."

Of course, he's right. Ana knows Christian well enough to guess how guilty he'd feel if the session did her lasting damage, so she's in earnest when she says, "I'll tell you. I promise."

Flynn's sigh of relief is audible and he concludes, "Thank you. And, if you want to distract Christian from worrying, ask him if he's done his homework."

"Homework?"

Ana could swear she actually hears Flynn's smile when he says, "Ask him. I'll see you this afternoon."

Curious, Ana says goodbye. Glancing at the time, she dials Christian's office number. A little surprised when he actually answers, she teases, "How's your blonde harem, today?"

Her stomach does somersaults at the joy in his voice when he exclaims, "Ana! Why didn't you call my cell, baby?"

Her smile so big it's difficult to talk around it, Ana says, "Oh, you said you had a meeting at ten, so I thought you might be busy and was going to leave a message with Linda."

His seductive tone now working on those parts of her body south of her stomach, Christian says, "I told you, baby, I'm never too busy for you. What can I do for you, Mrs. Grey?"

Ana groans and says, "For a start, stop talking like that when you won't have a chance to follow through until tonight."

Sounding anything but contrite, Christian laughs and says, "Sorry, baby. Seriously, what's up? If this isn't urgent, I don't have long."

"Uh, Flynn called to make sure that I'm ready for the session, and I just needed to check how you're coping. I assume he also called you?"

"Yeah. He's…anyway, we'll see."

A most un-Fifty response, so Ana says, "It's okay, baby, you don't have to do this. We're doing okay. It'll just take longer without it."

Christian's laugh is a little harsh this time and he says, "You think that I'm in therapy because I enjoy it? I would give every cent I have to merely know Flynn as a friend. We're doing this."

Satisfied that he's not proceeding in some sort of misguided attempt to do what _she_ wants, Ana says, "Okay, darling. In that case, there's only the matter of your homework. Have you done it?"

When Christian's only immediate response is a mumbled "Fucker," Ana is now _very_ curious. She waits patiently until he explains, "As per your wishes, I asked for his opinion on the nature of my relationship with...you know who. He said 'Hmm' like he does and promised to send me some information to discuss at another time. It's a common practice of his when we run out of time before resolving an issue."

"And?"

There're several seconds of silence, and then Christian pouts, "It was a link to a site describing the symptoms of someone suffering from Stockholm Syndrome." When Ana starts to laugh and stifles it with her hand, Christian adds, "Go on."

After unleashing her mini laughing fit, Ana exclaims, "I love that man."

Christian growls, "And I think you're a little free with your love."

Ana knows he's not genuinely jealous of Flynn, and is smiling as she says, "I've got a lot free right now. Would you care for some?"

Finally sounding like the strong, confident man she loves, Christian asserts, "No. I want _all_ of it."

"And you have all of it, Mr. Grey…all of _me_."

Christian groans and says, "Fuck it. What time is lunch for you today?"

"Uh, one, I guess. Why?"

"At five minutes past, I'll be waiting in that stairwell you use to get away from everyone."

"How…? Oh; minions. I think that's a wonderful idea, thank you." Remembering a conversation from what seems like eons ago, Ana says, "Fucking stairs."

"Exactly. Thank you, Mrs. Grey, for granting me permission to breach the inner sanctum of Grey Publishing."

Ana giggles at his formal tone and says, "I don't think you asked."

"No. But I would have let you forbid me."

* * *

Ana and Christian enter John Flynn's consulting room hand-in-hand and sit down on the sofa without breaking that bond. Flynn greets them both and asks Christian, "How are you feeling right now?"

"Shit-scared. But also surprisingly optimistic; a relatively new sensation for me. Is that due to the medication?"

"It could be, and Ana's influence, no doubt. What about you, Ana? How do you feel?"

Glancing at her husband, Ana says, "Scared for Christian. I don't like the thought of him experiencing pain. But I know he's strong enough, so I'm confident this will go well." She smiles when Christian taps her hand twice.

Proving why he's in charge, Flynn says, "What was that just now?"

The couple communicate silently for a moment, and then Ana says, "It's…remember that Christian does some things twice? We came up with a code for public situations; a reminder that we love and trust each other. It's two taps on any part of the body. At first it was to stop Christian from going ballistic, but now it's just…well, just a reminder. When he does that, I know he's in control."

When Ana looks to Christian for his side of the explanation, he grins and says, "When Ana does it, I know that I'm _not_ in control, but not to panic, because _she_ is."

That familiar too-much-love ache in her chest, Ana says, "I didn't know that's how you interpreted it."

Smiling at her, Christian says, "You never asked."

"Should I leave?"

Christian laughs and says, "Sorry, Doc. As you can see, other than the fact that I'm still sometimes almost paralyzed with fear, things are going very well."

"And, hopefully, you'll soon be rid of even that symptom. Oh, how did you go with testing the medication's effect on your 'two' compulsion?"

"Good. As you suggested, I started off small. Before the medication, if I didn't tap my toothbrush twice, I'd soon got that familiar skin-crawling feeling that something bad was about to happen. This morning the feeling was still there, but I could ignore it." With a grin, he adds, "Though I eventually tapped the second time, just to make sure I wasn't stressed for this."

"Good thinking." Leaning back in his chair, Flynn says, "Well, I think you're ready. What memory have you chosen?"

Christian's sudden fear is palpable when he says, "The first time he beat me."

His voice amazingly calm, Flynn says, "All right, Christian. You're my last client for the day, so don't try to force it. If you feel like you can't continue, or I think you're getting too stressed, we'll take a break. But, once you start, I _will_ ask you to continue until the scene is done, okay?"

It's a reminder, not an instruction, so Christian merely says, "Got it."

Of Ana, Flynn asks, "Ready?" When she nods, he says to Christian, "Do the exercises and the mantra, then begin."

Ana watches in fascination as Christian adjusts his position for comfort, then appears to tense and relax every part of his body, his lips moving as if in silent prayer. At one point, he winks at Ana, saying, "I am safe. I am loved."

Somehow, she knows that this mantra is something new, since she came on the scene, so she smiles her love for him and says, "Yes."

When Christian's expression becomes too calm to be anything other than a cover for his fear, Ana knows that he's ready. So she forces her own body to relax and silently repeats his mantra as her Fifty Shades begins, "Sshh! She would say, 'Sshh, baby boy. Stay here and keep quiet for Mommy.' And I could tell she was scared, though I didn't know why. I guess it was a cupboard under the sink. All I remember is that it was dark and smelled of mold and chemicals. I still can't stand that fucking smell. Mostly I'd go to sleep. Other times I'd hear him, grunting away. I've since worked out what they were doing, of course; he'd get her high and then fuck her. He was the only man I ever saw in the apartment until after she died, so I guess it was the price she had to pay for a safe place to live. Safe? Hah!"

Christian's guttural laugh is so harsh that Ana wonders if it actually hurts his throat. After a deep breath, he grimly continues, "This time I was woken by her muffled screams. She was on her knees and he was beating her with a whip improvised from a wire coat hanger, as she held both hands over her mouth to silence her reaction." Ana watches in horror as Christian's hands unconsciously describe the shape of the weapon in midair, as if he really is seeing at all over again. "I didn't know who he was. I didn't know why he was hitting her…still don't. But I knew that it had to stop it. So I launched myself at him…almost knocked the fucker down, too. He must have got one hell of a surprise when a howling missile of nothing but fucking skin and bones smacked into his legs."

Again in that calming monotone, Flynn says, "Take a moment to relax, Christian, and then resume. This is going well."

Impressed when he doesn't directly compliment Christian, given that her husband struggles to accept praise even from her, Ana suddenly realizes that the quiet, unassuming man before them knows his patient even better than she does. It's a revelation that gently soothes all her concerns about today and, when he glances at her, she's able to offer him a genuine smile and says, "Yes, it is, thank you."

The almost imperceptible lowering of his shoulders confirms that even John Flynn had been nervous about putting them through this ordeal. He's more relaxed when he again turns his attention to Christian, who soon continues, "It didn't work, of course. I probably only weighed as much as his legs. He swore and turned on me, putting his foot on my back to keep me still as he said, 'Hello, turd. Where were you hiding?' I didn't know what it meant when he then looked at Mommy and said, 'I've got a better idea.' _She_ knew, though. She cried out and lunged at him, trying to take the weapon from him. He backhanded her and said, 'Five lashes. This time. If you do it again, the next time will be ten. Can you count, bitch?' She begged for a while. But he just backhanded her again and yelled at her to count."

Christian's chest is heaving with the effort of containing his rising panic. Ana can feel his elevated pulse where her hand rests in his. Desperate to comfort him, she taps his hand twice. He manages a weak smile and says, "I'm okay. Believe it or not, this is a calm reaction compared to earlier efforts to tell Flynn what happened."

Flynn smiles, though it's a little grim, and says, "Not long now, Christian. But you need to finish the scene…at your own pace."

Christian nods and lets his gaze settle on neither of them as he says, "Of course, I'd felt pain. But nothing like this. By the second lash I was screaming my lungs out. He growled, 'Shut him the fuck up, or I'll make it ten now.' So she…my _mother_…"

Christian suddenly leans forward, letting go of Ana, and puts his head in both hands. He's gasping and trembling, sweat soaking through his shirt. Flynn catches Ana's eye and motions for her to be still. Shaking with her need to comfort the grown but still broken little boy next to her, she complies. Flynn somehow still sounds relaxed as he says, "Time for a break, Christian. Calm your body. Have a drink of water. Walk around, if that's what you need. There's no hurry."

Christian meekly follows all of Flynn's suggestions, adding a kiss for his wife before resuming his seat and again holding her hand. After a few seconds and a deep, shuddering breath, he continues, "My mother crawled over to me and clasped a hand over my mouth, saying, 'Sshh, baby boy. It'll be over soon, I promise. Be quiet for Mommy, okay?' I tried. I really did; somehow managed to stop crying. But, when he hit me again, I still screamed. It got muffled by her hand though. He hit me one more time and then threw the coat hanger down, saying, 'Four this time, 'cos you done so good. But you'd better fuckin' tow the line, bitch.' I was too far gone to notice when he left. But I know that he did, because Mommy cradled me on her lap, rocking and soothing me until I finally fell asleep." Looking at Flynn, he concludes, "By then my hair was wet from her tears."

No one speaks for several seconds. It's Ana who breaks the silence, saying, "Can I have a hug, now?"

Christian laughs and crushes her to him. They just stay like that for a while. He releases her only enough to lift her face to his for a kiss, then says, "Thanks, baby. Couldn't have done it without you."

Ana smiles her love for him and says, "Of course you could. But I'm glad I helped." Of Flynn, she asks, "How many times do we have go through this?"

With a grimace, Flynn reveals, "Until Christian can do that without the physical symptoms." Brightening a little, he says, "The good news is that this was a success. I wasn't sure that it would work at all, given that it's been so long since the original trauma. But this is more than Christian has ever been capable of articulating until now. So we know that, whatever the clinical outcome of these sessions, he _will_ be less stressed by the end of them."

Ana looks at them both in wonder and ponders aloud, "Stress-free Christian…I wonder if I'll like him?"

Proving just how far he's come since they met, Christian grins and says, "Baby, you're going to love him."

* * *

Author's note: More? Or shall me move on with something less traumatic? Thanks to AriadneInNaxos (seriously; thank you), I've emerged relatively unscathed. So either is fine with me.

Thank you, to all who voted, either way. I also liked the comments that equated to, "Don't mind what you write, so long as I get to read it." Thank you.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's note: Apparently I'm a wuss when it comes to child abuse. I'm calling it a good thing. So this is all you get for now. As an apology for making you wait for so few words, that last line is very deliberate. Ana has a few questions, but is there anything you'd like to know about Christian's early childhood that wasn't answered by the books? Bear in mind that he was very young, so he doesn't remember everything, and some of it is from a child's POV.

* * *

Chapter Six

Flynn glances at his watch and says, "Well, we have some time. Do either of you have any concerns; about this or anything else? Otherwise, we can wrap this up early, considering it went so well."

Christina looks at Ana, who merely shrugs, so he says, "I want to do another one."

Frowning a little, Flynn says, "Another memory?" When Christian nods, he protests, "I don't think that's a good idea. This went better than expected. But you're a long way from healed, and it clearly took a toll on you. And what about the effect it's having on Ana?"

That gets to Christian, his gaze flicking to Ana's. He appraises her expression for a while and says, "Okay, baby? You wouldn't let me hurt you, right?"

Ana can guess how much, after so many years of suffering this debilitating condition, Christian wants to be rid of his past, but she cautiously says, "I'm okay. But John is still your therapist after all this time for a reason, darling. I think you should listen to him."

Christian nods once and turns to Flynn, saying, "Test me. If I pass, we do one more. The one I'm thinking of isn't as bad as that first beating."

Flynn stares at his friend for several seconds and then says, "Okay. But under protest, and only because you'd do it without me, otherwise."

Christian grins at that and says, "Thanks, Doc."

Ana is wondering what "test" means when Flynn gets up and walks over to his desk. On seeing what he's holding when he returns, she asks Christian, "How did I not guess that you're terrified of cigarettes?"

Christian smiles a little and says, "Good thing being a smoker nowadays makes you practically a pariah, or I'd never have become successful. All my enemies would have to do is light up during a meeting to completely derail me. Not even Elliot and Mia know about this, mainly because Grace would never tolerate the cancer sticks in our home."

Ana suddenly remembers her attempt at psychotherapy and her hand flies to her mouth in shock before she says, "Oh, God! And I attacked you with…"

Christian is already enfolding her in his arms as Flynn says, "Exactly."

Christian glares at him and then says to Ana, "It's okay, baby. That's the reason we're here…_you're_ the reason. I decided that night to just do whatever it takes to get better."

Somewhat appeased by his sincerity, Ana then asks, "But you even picked up that fake cigarette."

"_Fake_, baby. Once I realized that, it was okay."

Calming down, Ana eyes the cigarette packet and matchbook as she says, "So what's this test?"

Releasing her, but then reclaiming her hand, Christian faces Flynn and says, "It used to be that I couldn't even stand them being in the room. But I got past that a while ago. The best I've ever done is for Flynn to light it. If I can do better than that, we know the medication is working."

His face grim, Flynn explains, "There's no tobacco in these; it's not necessary for this exercise. And I'll caution you again, Christian, to just give it a rest for today."

"Duly noted. Now stop stalling."

Christian is already breathing faster, and his gaze is glued to the pack. His actions slower than usual, and his attention consumed by his patient, Flynn removes one cigarette. Still telegraphing his movements, he puts it in his mouth and lights a match. Christian's grip on Ana's hand increases as Flynn lights the cigarette then takes a few puffs, the tip glowing a menacing red. But then Christian suddenly leans forward and takes it from his lips, prompting Flynn to caution, "Easy. You don't need to rush this."

His hand visibly shaking, Christian's voice is calm as he says, "I'm not. It's weird. I can remember being terrified of this. Now I'm just scared." With a grin, he adds, "Maybe I could finally take up smoking?"

Elated that he seems okay, and certain that he's joking, Ana teases, "Only if you want to give up kissing."

As if it's a request, Christian leans in for a kiss, but is interrupted by Flynn's, "Uh, Christian?"

Realizing that he's in danger of burning Ana with the still lit cigarette, he says, "Oh, right. Not used to these damn things." Relinquishing it, he kisses Ana and says, "Thank you."

"For?"

"Being here. Bullying me. Sticking by me. Things will get easier now, I promise."

Smiling, because her happiness demands it, Ana nevertheless says, "I don't think that's up to you, darling. But, you're welcome. Would you please save whatever memory you were thinking of for another day?"

Christian considers for a moment and says, "Since you asked so nicely, okay." Turning to Flynn, he continues, "Looks like everyone gets to go home early today, Doc."

Flynn stands and shakes their hands in turn, saying, "I guess so. I'm very pleased with how this went. I'll see you on Tuesday."

"Any more sarcastic homework, Doc?"

Flynn smiles and says, "No. Oh, do we need to discuss that?"

"No, I'm pretty sure I got your point. I'm not ready to agree yet, but you may be onto something."

Ana grins and says, "About time."

She recognizes Dominant Christian in his tone when he says, "I think we'd better get home."

Once in the back seat of the SUV, nestled against Christian, Ana says, "Would it be inappropriate to say that I'm proud of you?"

Kissing her temple, Christian says, "I think we'll allow it, just this once. I'm proud of you, too. You know damn well I would have called the whole thing off if it looked like you weren't coping. But you were amazing. I don't imagine that was easy to hear."

"Less easy to endure. Can I ask questions about you childhood?"

She feels Christian's smile against her hair and he says, "Sure, baby. What would you like to know?"


	7. Chapter 7

Author's note: A reminder that, at this stage of my story, the confrontation with Elena and various protagonists at Christian's birthday party has occurred. Currently, Grace is still pissed at Christian over it, Christian is extricating himself from Elena's business interests and Ana, as always, can't stand the thought of the woman. Though she's still trying to be understanding of Christian's view that Elena helped him through a tough time. Thanks, for reading.

Oh, and Taylor Charteris, we miss you. Wherever you've disappeared to, I hope you're writing. I think that it was my first review of your work in which I said, "Thank you, for giving me something to aim for." It stands. I will never be as good as you, but I'm having fun trying.

* * *

Chapter Seven

With too many questions running through her head, Ana decides on the most relevant one and asks, "Do you remember all of the beatings with such clarity? You were quite young, right?"

"Not all of them. And I can't actually be sure that I'm recalling the dialogue accurately. I think that one stands out because it was the first."

"And they went on for quite a while? Oh, and please let me know if this is difficult for you. I just…I've always had questions, but didn't want to add to your stress."

Holding her a little tighter, Christian says, "I'm fine, really. And I'll stop if it's getting to me. Yes, they went on for what must have been about a year. After a while, they all kind of blur together in my memory, with a few horrific highlights. I recall more than one occasion where my mother was so stoned that she just looked on as he stubbed his cigarette out on my chest. I'm not sure why that particular torture began, but I'm absolutely fucking certain that he enjoyed seeing my distress at her apparent consent. He would look at me with such…satisfaction, presumably that he had control over our lives. If I'd had enough energy, I would have hated him even then. As it was, I only had the strength to be terrified of him. Before I 'met' him, I was completely toilet trained. But the beatings…I would piss myself just at the sound of his voice, or the smell of those cigarettes. And I wet the bed long after Grace and Carrick rescued me." Breathing a little hard, he smiles at her concerned expression and concludes, "Yeah, still not easy to talk about it. I'm okay, baby. I like being able to finally answer your questions, and incredibly grateful that I can trust you with this shit."

Satisfied that he's all right to continue, Ana still leans against his shoulder for her own reassurance and eventually asks, "And…you said that being touched was…I can't remember now; something like disappearing and only your rage can bring you back?"

"Something exactly like that. I just described how my mother helped keep me quiet, if necessary. But she was often too out of it to perform that…duty for him. And I soon worked out that crying or trying to hide meant a fiercer punishment…except that it wasn't really punishment, because I never did anything wrong. I just knew that, if he was there, I'd get a beating, and he was there every day. I think it started as a way of controlling her, but then unlocked some need in him that only my pain could satisfy. He'd even make me watch when he beat or fucked her. In some ways that was worse, but she put up with it, because he'd leave me alone then." Christian takes a moment to calm himself and then resumes, "What was…? Oh, right; touching. I started to disappear. I can't think of any other way to describe it. You know when people talk about going to their 'happy place'? I didn't have one; the nearest I had to that concept was when my mother hid me in a dark place. That was the last time I could remember feeling safe, so I'd just go…inside. Fuck, I'm not explaining this right."

Not game to touch his chest when he's this vulnerable, Ana reaches up to caress Christian's cheek as she says, "No, you're doing great. But we don't need to do this if it's too difficult."

Snaring her hand and kissing the palm, Christian says, "It's not. But I was just a kid who didn't have the necessary words to explain what happened, and this is the first time I've been able to articulate it. Did you know that one of the symptoms of abuse and neglect is delayed speech development?"

"No. But it makes sense. I don't imagine you had many real conversations."

Her understanding appearing to lend him strength, Christian nods and says, "No, I didn't. Even when she wasn't high, my mother didn't exactly talk to me after that; just cried and apologized a lot. I don't think that I went to hospital during that time. But I have a vague memory of some woman treating my wounds once or twice. I guess she was a nurse, or something. I've no idea. She was nice, though, and smelled clean." With a wry grin, he adds, "Not something I was used to."

Glad that he seems okay, Ana prompts, "Disappearing?"

"Yeah, I don't know how long it took. But I was eventually able to remove myself from the situation and not feel the pain…well, feel it as if it were happening to someone else. It's the one good thing he did for me. I think that pissed him off, though. And the beatings got worse. But there was nothing he could do, and I had no other way of coping. It's not like I could have fought back." With a sigh, Christian then continues, "Afterwards; when I was rescued, they tried to treat my wounds in the hospital. Poor Grace must have just about had heart failure when I became catatonic at her touch."

Imaging that same defensive instinct in a pre-adolescent Christian, Ana says, "Oh, God. And that's what you were like growing up?"

"Sort of. I soon discovered how to stop it; fight back. I don't remember the first time it happened. But I found that violence was…the antidote, if you will. If someone touched me and I immediately pushed them, I didn't disappear. God, it was liberating. I actually wanted people to touch me for a while back then, just so I could finally control what happened to me. I realize now, of course, that I'd simply swapped one involuntary reaction for another…a far more destructive one. Because I couldn't exactly go around asking kids to touch me, I began picking fights instead. And the fear of vanishing lent my rage so much power that I never lost a fight. I guess that Mom and Dad thought martial arts would let me express my rage in a more socially acceptable way, and it sort of worked. The discipline required to excel helped me control the urges. But the fighting continued until…well, until I was a teenager."

Not sure if she wants the answers, Ana hesitates for a moment and then asks, "How did she stop the fighting?"

As if he'd been waiting for permission to discuss Elena, Christian nods and says, "If I turned up with marks on me that hadn't been put there by her, she'd punish me."

"With more violence? How could that help?"

"No, sweetheart, that's not necessarily how a Domme punishes."

"Oh. She'd deny you pleasure."

"Yes; a remarkably efficient method of controlling a horny teenager. Plus, after a while, I simply wanted to please her…needed to, even. You okay?"

"Yes. But I think maybe that's enough about her for now."

Christian chuckles and says, "Then it's just as well we didn't do the second memory."

Shocked, Ana looks at him to ask, "You have a bad memory about Elena?"

"More than one. It was a while before she worked out my limits, especially as I didn't have enough experience to explain what would be too much for me. And I'd often silently accept whatever she dished out, in an effort to prove myself." Suddenly breaking the somber mood with a grin, Christian asks, "Sound familiar, baby?"

Not wanting to contemplate any similarities between her relationship with Christian and his with Elena, Ana lies, "No."

Christian chuckles and kisses her forehead, saying, "We'll let that one slide. It was a challenging time for both me and Elena. Thank God she's strict about safe words, or we'd have had real problems. In the meantime, I was a very angry teen who hated the world; myself most of all. It wasn't easy for her to tame me." At her expression, Christian smiles and says, "Don't like that word, baby?"

Angry that he appears to find her distress funny, Ana glares at him and says, "Not even a little bit. You're a Dom, and she should have known better."

With a shrug, Christian admits, "She probably did. But I don't regret subbing. Apart from the fact that it cured me of a need for violence, it made me a better Dom." When Ana is broodingly silent for several seconds, he gently instructs, "Just talk to me, baby."

Ana considers for a moment longer, thinking of all those women who looked like his mother and enjoyed pain, then says, "But it didn't cure you; not really."

Smiling his love for her, Christian says, "No. You did that."

Unable to speak for a while, because of the depths of her feelings for him, Ana eventually asks, "How?"

Christian spends a moment searching for the right words and then says, "From the very first time you touched my chest, I no longer needed to disappear, and I didn't want to fight back. And, for the first time in my life, I felt…worthy, I guess."

Before she dissolves into a weeping mess, Ana jokes, "You certainly hid it well for a while."

Christian laughs, a truly joyful sound, and says, "Well, yes. I didn't have the faintest fucking idea what was going on, and I'd hated myself for so long that it was difficult to reconcile the new feelings. Everything in my life up until that point had proven that I was less than perfect. You apparently effortlessly shattered every truth I thought I knew, leaving nothing in its place…or so I thought, until I was able to accept that you love me. You destroyed me and remade me." Ana sees the light bulb moment for him, and he continues, "Actually, that's exactly right; re-made. I think that I'm now becoming who I should have been if my formative years hadn't been quite so traumatic."

Ana ponders this for a while and says, "But you won't ever really be that person. You can't just ignore what's happened."

"No. But, for a while, it ruled me. Now it's becoming just part of who I am. Thank you."

Again drowning in her love for him, Ana says, "Truly my pleasure, Mr. Grey."

Because nothing else seems enough, they kiss for a while, and then Christian says, "Taylor, you missed our turn."

"Uh, yes, sir; a few times, to give you a chance to talk. Ready to head home?"

Christian chuckles and says to Ana, "See what you've reduced me to? My staff think they know what's best for me." Louder, he continues, "If it's not too much trouble? I'm hungry."

Ana pokes that ticklish spot on Christian's ribs for teasing their loyal bodyguard and says, "I'm sure what he meant to say was, 'Thank you, Taylor'."

Taylor's smiling eyes meet hers in the mirror for a second and he says, "Yes, ma'am. You're welcome."

On seeing that Christian's eyes are now hooded with dark desire, Ana raises one eyebrow in question, her body already stirring in response to his lust. He smirks on noting her reaction and leans close enough to murmur, "You haven't tickled me for a while."

Only now remembering that doing so is on the increasingly long list of things that will result in punishment, Ana suddenly realizes how they can both wipe out the residual stress from his therapy session. Practically panting with need for him, she decides to have some fun with it and crooks her finger to beckon him even closer. With her lips almost touching his ear, she whispers, "You'll have to catch me, first."

Christian groans and hisses, "Fuck, Ana. Did you not hear me say I'm hungry?" She's just smiling her victory at him when he instructs Taylor, "Dinner will be delayed."

"Yes, sir. It'll be waiting in the oven."

Noting the lack of surprise, Christian observes to Ana, "_He_ reads minds, too?"

Ana laughs, all their worries temporarily put aside, and says, "I don't think psychic skills are necessary to know this about you, Christian."

"Hey, it was your idea."

"Nor about me."

Again moderating his volume so that only Ana can hear, Christian says, "Yes. The fact that you're just as horny as me is one of my favorite things about you."

* * *

Grinning like kids, the earlier strain of their evening forgotten, Ana and Christian finally make it to the kitchen. Picking up the oven mitts, he says, "I'll get the food, you get the drinks."

Having noticed something, Ana takes the mitts and says, "_You_ get the drinks."

It's rare that Ana actually gives him an order, so Christian is frowning in confusion, not anger, as he moves to the refrigerator. Spying the envelope held to the door with a rainbow magnet and labeled "Christian," in a childish scrawl, he looks to Ana for the answer. When she just shrugs, he warily opens the envelope and reads the short note within. Having guessed who it's from, Ana is quietly smiling when Christian reads aloud, "Thank you for the nuggets. I named my bear after you. Sophie Taylor." At the love shining from Ana's face, he cheerfully commands, "No."

Ana knows full well that he's reminding her they're not ready for children, so she giggles and says, "I didn't say a thing. You actually made her school get more chicken nuggets?"

Clearly embarrassed discussing it, Christian pours their drinks as he says, "Not exactly. For twenty-five dollars a week someone will deliver a bucket of nuggets, Monday through Friday, until she tires of them."

Her chest aching with love at his generosity, Ana asks, "And if she never tires of them?"

Quickly kissing her before sitting at the counter, Christian says, "Small price to pay for an ally in the Taylor household; especially one who's too young to boss me around."

Ana laughs and says, "Christian, the child has you supplying her lunch."

"Oh, right." Laughing a little, Christian says, "Let's hope she never becomes a competitor, or I'm screwed."

Ana is almost too happy as they begin their meal, and soon asks, "Do you think they're engaged yet?"

"Haven't heard anything. But then I didn't ask."

Noting the lack of emotion in his reply, Ana asks, "Is this making you uncomfortable?"

"No. Not really. It's just…one of the things you've done to me is that I can't think of them as just employees anymore. But, again, I'm back to not knowing how to act, like when I was a kid." Confirming, with a bright smile, that he's not upset about it, Christian adds, "You ruined everything."

Incredibly pleased that he's beginning to understand how much his employees love him, Ana cheerfully says, "Good. And you have a way in; when you thank Sophie for the letter, ask her opinion. No way Jason would proceed without checking if she's okay with it."

Apparently mystified by the concept, Christian asks, "Truly?"

"Yes, darling. Oh, though they may have sworn her to secrecy, so it would be cruel to push her."

"You think that I'd interrogate a child?"

Ana carefully articulates, "No. But, other than Mia, you're not used to dealing with them. And I know you wouldn't like to upset Sophie."

Christian calms down at these words and resumes his meal for a while, then says, "She certainly is sweet."

Worried about drawing out his fear of parenthood, Ana limits her praise to, "And you're wonderful with her."

Christian shrugs and says, "All I have to do is answer her questions honestly and keep her from doing anything reckless. If adults were that easy, I'd rule the world."

Ana giggles and says, "Christian, you just about do."

Suddenly very smug, he grins and says, "True." They eat in silence for a while and then Christian asks, "So, do I just knock on the door and ask for Sophie? I usually text them if I need anything."

Thrilled that he's asking her advice, Ana refrains from hugging him and says, "Yes, I think that's appropriate. They know you'll treat her with respect. You've never knocked on their door?"

"No. And you won't, either. Remember what I said; living with them only works if we keep things separate. Last night was an exception, because the child's mother is in hospital."

Filing that fallacy away inside her mind as something to gradually eradicate, Ana cheekily says, "Yes, Sir."

Christian's resulting glare lacks power and he observes, "You disagree."

Grateful that he's willing to discuss it, Ana says, "I do. Jason, Gail and sometimes Sophie _are_ part of our lives. Maintaining this illusion of them being mere lodgers is…well, I'm sure you had good reason in the past. But they already know everything about you, Christian, and I think you're beginning to realize that they adore you. There's no longer any reason to push them away. And I don't mean we should share living quarters. I'm just suggesting that we could spend some time socially with them. I really enjoyed my evenings with Gail while you were in New York. She's an amazing woman who's been through a lot. I'm happy to count her as a friend."

"Did you ever think they might be the ones who prefer the separation?" When Ana only smiles, Christian tries again to glare at her and says, "You're too smart. I'll think about it, okay?" Wiping his mouth on the napkin, he then stands as he declares, "Well, I have to go and interrogate a little girl, so you're on cleanup."

That familiar ache in her chest is too much, so she calls his name. When Christian turns at the door, Ana has tears in her eyes as she says, "I love you, Sir."

Christian gasps at the power of this deceptively simple declaration. His mission apparently forgotten, he leans across the counter and asks, "But, do I rule you, or do you rule me? Because, in this moment, there is nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Ana knows that he really means it. Blinking away the tears, she's just as sincere on declaring, "Then it's lucky for you that all I need is right here, in you."

Holding out a hand, which she readily accepts, Christian guides Ana around the counter to him as he says, "Leave the dishes. I'll take care of them and Soapy in the morning."

* * *

Where credit's due: Atterbury, for wanting to know about Christian's fear of being touched. I enjoyed finding out, thank you. I'll answer the other questions in upcoming chapters.

Whomever (sorry, memory fails me) suggested Sophie should name the bear after Christian.

AriadneInNaxos, for advice from another time that I used in this one.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Gail is preparing breakfast when Christian, dressed for the office, enters and says, "Morning, Mrs. Jones. Is Sophie awake? I was hoping to thank her for the letter she made."

Smiling Gail says, "Morning, sir. Yes, she's awake. Would you like me to fetch her?"

"No, that's okay. I thought I'd just knock on the door."

Gail hides her surprise well and, recognizing it as a request, says, "I think that would be okay. Breakfast in twenty minutes?"

Stealing a piece of bacon from where it rests on paper towel, Christian grins and says, "Perfect." Almost to the door, he finally gets brave and turns, saying, "One more thing. Ana and I are checking out a few houses tomorrow. Since you and Taylor will be living on the estate, I thought maybe you'd like to tag along and help us choose?" This is too much for Gail and Christian can feel his ears turning red at her obvious shock as he concludes, "Seems only fair that you have some input, and Taylor will be with us anyway, of course. And, obviously, Sophie would be welcome, given the present circumstances."

"Uh, thank you, sir. I'd like that, if you're sure Mrs. Grey won't mind?"

Desperate to flee her shocked gratitude, Christian is already turning to leave as he says, "I'm sure."

About to knock on the door to the employee's wing for the first time, Christian notices that his hand is trembling. Muttering curses under his breath, he calms his body's ridiculous reaction to this simple activity. He knows it's actually change that he's afraid of; that old terror of everything going back to the way it was before he was saved. Again under control, he raps on the door a few times. There's a moment while the door is unlocked, and Taylor is before him, with an almost identical shocked look to Gail's. After a second, the confused bodyguard says, "Sir? Something wrong?"

Christian brusquely says, "Nothing. I was wondering if Sophie is free? I wanted to thank her for the lovely letter."

"Uh, yes, sir. Come in. She's just having breakfast."

The words "come in" echo uselessly inside Christian's skull for a moment before he manages to say, "Okay, just for a minute. How's Jennifer?"

Smiling as he leads Christian through the rooms that have remained unseen since the penthouse was purchased, Taylor says, "Much better, thank you. She should be out in a couple of days, though obviously it'll be a while before she's completely healed. Thank you, for letting Sophie stay here, and for permitting future visits."

Again embarrassed that it hadn't even occurred to him until the accident, Christian finds the courage to say, "Yeah, well, I should have suggested it, sorry."

Taylor smiles and says, "It's all right, sir. This wasn't an appropriate…Jen wouldn't have liked it before now, anyway."

Only now realizing that his former lifestyle is, in fact, the reason Taylor never asked to have Sophie live with him even part-time, Christian is too shocked to speak. Luckily, they enter the kitchen at that moment, where Sophie is noisily devouring a bowl of cereal. Seeing him, she smiles and says, "Christian! Mommy said I could mind the bear while she's sick. I named him after you."

With a final, nervous glance at Taylor, who's already ignoring both of them to clean up, Christian says, "Yes, I got your letter. Thank you, for that."

"Daddy, can I show him my new room?"

With a glance at Christian, who merely shrugs, Taylor says, "Sure, sweetie. Remember what we talked about?"

Sophie rolls her eyes and says, "Yes, I'll be good."

Led by the hand, Christian waits until they're out of earshot before quietly asking, "What did you talk about?"

Sophie glances back at the kitchen before whispering, "I'm to remember that we're here because of your gen…gener…"

"Generosity? It means sharing without expecting anything back."

"Yes, and that I'm to behave myself and not upset you. Why are you wearing a suit? It's Saturday. Daddy's wearing _his_ suit, but he has to drive Mrs. Grey today."

Stunned at the speed of the subject change, Christian tries to keep a straight face as he says, "I'm sure she'd prefer it if you call her 'Ana'. And I miss her too much when she's away. So I'm going to work until she gets back from her driving lesson."

Stopping, the notion apparently too serious to discuss while walking, Sophie says, "If you miss her, why don't you go with her?"

"Uh…can you keep a secret? Know something and not tell anyone?"

Her eyes gleaming, Sophie promises, "Yes."

Leaning closer, as if it's something of great portent, Christian whispers, "Because Ana drives like a crazy person and it scares me to watch her."

Sophie bursts into a fit of giggles and says, "Daddy says that about Mommy, too."

* * *

Ana is in the en suite brushing her hair when she sees Christian in the mirror and says, "How'd it go?"

Hugging her from behind, his hands gently encircling her waist, Christian kisses her cheek and then releases her, saying, "Good. I think Gail and Jason are still in shock, but Sophie's fine. Though she has absolutely, on pain of death, forbidden me to call her 'Soapy' ever again."

"So, you're going to keep doing it?"

"Of course."

Looking on for a few seconds, Christian then nabs the brush and takes over. At first unsure, Ana soon purrs, "Mmm…nice, thank you." Nervous about an idea that she's had for a while, Ana warily asks, "Would you like to braid it?"

Christian stills and says, "What?"

Worried that it's too much, Ana turns to face him, saying, "I don't exactly find the idea sexy. But you used to always do that, right? And we're doing all that work unlocking memories, so it could help. Plus, I thought you might still enjoy it. And, so long as it's not part of foreplay, I thought…" When Christian merely coolly studies her, his closed expression betraying nothing of what he's thinking, she trails off and reaches for the brush as she says, "Sorry; stupid idea."

Christian retains his grasp on the brush and says, "Turn around."

Utterly confused, and a little turned on by his commanding tone, Ana again faces the mirror. At his tender ministrations, she soon closes her eyes in pleasure as Christian brushes and expertly braids her hair. With her neck now exposed, he gently kisses it, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body, and says, "Done. Thank you."

Checking out the result in the mirror, Ana says, "Perfect." Holding his gaze in the mirror, she says, "And it kind of was foreplay, wasn't it?"

Christian's eyes widen at this revelation, and he again embraces her, resting his chin on her shoulder while staring at her reflection, proving with that contact that he's also turned on. "Yes." Suddenly releasing Ana, he smacks her ass and says, "But breakfast is ready, so it will have to wait."

They're eating and Christian is unusually quiet. Eventually, Ana says, "Do I need to go on a hunger strike again?"

"I wouldn't." But then Christian frowns and asks, "Do you think I'm creepy?"

Laughing, Ana says, "The stranger who did a background check on me the day we met? The guy who made me sign an NDA and showed me his play room, before I'd even had sex? The man who used to play dirges in the middle of the night? Or the husband who _still_ stares at me while I'm sleeping?"

With all these being valid points, Christian can't quite marshal an angry glare as he complains, "A simply 'yes' would suffice."

"I'm sorry, darling. You know I love you, but you do give an unsettling first impression. What brought this on?"

"Sophie let slip that her Mom finds me creepy. We've only met once or twice." With a grin, he says, "On the plus side, Sophie disagrees."

"Do you mean to say that Jason's ex is _not_ one of the women who fell in love with you at first sight?"

"Apparently not."

Beaming at him, Ana says, "Then she's welcome to visit any time."

Also smiling, Christian says, "That's your criteria for guests?"

"Yes. I may even put a notice to that effect on the front door." Glancing at her watch, Ana says, "And I'd better go. You're still okay with me going shopping with Brit and Kate this afternoon?"

Christian quips, "You still okay with me _not_ coming with you?" More serious, he continues, "Of course. I understand you need some time off after all that's happened recently, with various aspects of my sordid past rearing their ugly heads. You seem okay, though?"

"I am. I never expected to meet one of your subs, but Angie is sweet. I presume they weren't all like her?"

"No, not all. And a couple were bat crap crazy." With a grin, Christian asks, "Want me to introduce you?"

Moving to stand before him, Ana says, "On that note, I'm leaving." Smiling, she adds, "I love you, Creepy Christian."

Reaching around to rest a warning hand on her ass, Christian says, "I'm not fond of that one."

Unconcerned, Ana smiles and says, "I'll just save it for special occasions, then."

When she kisses him, the hand on her ass becomes a caress, until she finally stands up straight, saying, "Damn, husband, but you make it very difficult to walk out the door."

Also breathing a little fast, Christian says, "Good. Have fun today, Adorable Ana."

Smiling, Ana says, "We can keep that one."

With a grin, Christian said, "Antagonistic Anastasia might be more appropriate, though."

Quickly kissing him again, Ana says, "Good thing you love her, too."

* * *

When Ana arrives at the driver training course, Brad has a surprise for her. "How would you like to attempt the track, today?"

Thrilled at the idea, Ana nevertheless glances nervously at the racing track and says, "You're sure?"

"I am. You're a good driver, Ana. Your husband asked that I help you reach a certain level of competency. I'd say we're there. It's up to you, of course, but I'd really like to take you through the advanced course. A few laps around the track will give you an idea of what I'm talking about."

"But I've only had a few lessons."

Brad shrugs and says, "Like I said, you're a good driver; taught by someone who knew what they were doing."

Ana smiles at the memories and says, "My Dad. And he was trained by the Marine Corps." Her palms sweating at the thought of actually attempting the race track, she asks Prescott, "Does Christian know about this?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Surprised that her overprotective husband would be okay with her racing, even without competitors, Ana is still pondering this anomaly when Brad reads her mind, saying, "Despite appearances, the cars aren't actually race ready. They have all the usual safety features, plus a couple more that would make them too heavy to be competitive. You could roll one of these babies fifty times and still walk away with only a slight headache."

Suddenly at ease, Ana smiles and says, "Let's not do that, but I'd love to give a go, thank you."

Recognizing it as consent, Brad nods and says, "Then get suited up and let's see what you can do."

As usual, Ana relaxes once she's behind the wheel of the Porsche. With Brad's constant instruction from the passenger seat, via the radio in her helmet, the first run of the track is at a moderate speed, but still exciting enough to get her heart pounding. As she slows to a stop after the finish line, his voice says, "A good first attempt. But you're breaking and turning in too early almost every corner, because you're worried about losing control. Trust the car and your ability. We'll do it again. If you follow my instructions, it'll be faster."

Sure enough, Ana's next run is faster. And the one after that, faster still. Though it's tiring enough that she's glad when Brad then calls a halt to the lesson, earlier than usual. Having changed out of her leathers, Ana shakes his hand and warmly says, "See you next week?"

Smiling, Brad asks, "So you'll do the advanced course?" At Ana's nod, he continues, "Wonderful. We'll work on coping with different, adverse weather conditions and eventually conclude with how to evade pursuit." Suddenly serious, he adds, "Sadly, something that might come in handy one day."

Ana laughs a little at that and says, "Maybe this afternoon. I'm going to attempt a few hours as a regular person. But, since I did that interview, I can't get through a day without someone wanting a statement or an autograph."

Smiling at Ana's current bodyguard, Brad says, "I'm sure Rachel won't let anything worse than that happen to you. But good luck with being regular."

After a warm goodbye, Rachel is driving her back to Escala to change and shower when Ana asks, "Does everyone on our staff know Brad?"

Keeping her eyes on the road, Prescott says, "It's a requirement that we pass the advanced course, before being assigned to this detail. Though anyone qualified enough to apply would be an above average driver."

"Oh. Well, that's reassuring."

Prescott laughs and says, "I guess so. You're going to enjoy it, I think." With a grin, she adds, "And, if Brad says you're good, he means it. There's a chance you might eventually be better than Mr. Grey."

Ana giggles and says, "Well, that _is_ an appealing thought. Can you imagine the look on his face? It would be worth photographing."

Ana is quietly contemplating the enticing prospect of beating Christian in a race – assuming she could ever persuade him to let her take part in one – when they enter the parking garage under Escala to see the man in question, and Taylor waiting with him. For once ignoring protocol, Ana exits without waiting for Prescott to open her door. Rushing into her husband's arms, she kisses him and says, "What a lovely surprise. I didn't think I'd see you until this evening. Racing was so much fun. Thank you, for being okay with that. Oh, hey, and I passed! Brad says I can start the advanced course next week, so I was…" Trailing off at his obvious amusement, she concludes, "What?"

Kissing her again, Christian then says, "It's just a lot of words, baby. I'm glad you had fun. You know I would have liked to be there, but no medication exists that could keep me calm enough to watch you on a race track. And you haven't asked why I'm here."

"Not just a happy coincidence?"

Producing an elegantly wrapped box, about the side of a jewelry case, Christian says, "Happy, but no coincidence. I thought that a small graduation gift was in order." Kissing her on the cheek as he places the gift in her hands, he says, "Congratulations."

Her eyes shining, Ana eagerly opens the box. Inside, on quality velvet, rests a single remote key, joined by a gold chain to a tiny replica of a VW Beetle. Ana's gaze flies to Christian's for confirmation, and his smile says it all. Scanning the garage, she quickly spots the brand new, metallic green Bug. Aiming the key at it with slightly trembling fingers, she presses the button and only releases her breath when it unlocks. As if in a trance, she wanders over and lovingly traces the line of the roof with her hand. From right behind her, Christian apologizes, "I would have liked to get in in vintage green, and affix personalized plates. But I'm afraid we can't afford to draw that much attention to you. I hope you understand, Ana; it's a safety issue."

Ana spins and throws her arms around him, pressing her face into his neck as she says, "Thank you."

Holding her against him, Christian can hear that she's crying and asks, "Happy tears?"

Her voice muffled by his collar, Ana says, "Ecstatic. Can I drive it right now?"

She feels his head turn and then a nod. Somehow she knows that he's doing that almost telepathic communication with Taylor, and then he says, "Sure, baby, we can do that. Where would you like to go?"

Lifting her face to shine her love on him, Ana says, "I don't care."

Smiling, Christian says, "Could you drop me at work, then? I only left for this."

Happier than it seems possible, Ana says, "I can do that." As Christian opens her door for her, Ana says, "I thought this car wasn't safe enough for you?"

"This year's model; no. What you now own is a glimpse of the future. The only thing stopping this model from attaining that fifth star was curtain airbags, and they're adding them next year, so I had them ship one out. I should even make some money on the deal, thanks to you. Sales will almost definitely climb when one of the most popular small cars also becomes one of the safest."

Getting into the driver's seat and looking up at him, Ana asks, "But isn't that insider trading?"

"Not actually. It hasn't been officially announced, but it's not exactly a secret either. No Perspex, I promise."

By the time Christian is in his seat, Ana has found the metal plaque affixed to the dash, that simply reads, "Wanda," and is almost in tears again as she says, "I can't believe you remembered my old car's name."

Smiling at her happiness, Christian says, "I always imagined it as 'Deathtrap' in my head, but I thought you'd prefer this." Clipping his seatbelt in place, he adds, "There was some talk of a drive?"

"No bodyguard?"

"They'll follow in the SUV. Oh, and please let one of them still drive when you're going to work, or anything else you do on a regular basis. That's the most likely time for an incident, and they're all better drivers than either of us."

At first confused, Ana asks, "Incident?" But then quickly catches on and says, "You mean someone ramming the car or a kidnapping attempt?"

His jaw clenching at the idea, Christian says only, "Yes."

Recognizing his fear, Ana says, "All right, darling. So I just tell them when I want to drive somewhere?"

Visibly relieved at her compliance, Christian says, "Yes. It's up to you whether you want them in the car or following in a separate vehicle. If with you, they'll need to sit in the front."

With a grin, Ana jokes, "Presumably so they can wrest the wheel from me if I have a heart attack?" At Christian's suddenly closed expression, Ana says, "I don't want to know why they need to be right beside me, do I?"

"I doubt it. But those options are extremely unlikely. Problem?"

Able to summon a genuine smile, because nothing can make her unhappy right now, Ana says, "All part of the Christian Grey package, and you're still worth it." Finally calm enough to drive, she turns the key and the car purrs to life. "Now that's a pretty sound. Thank you, Christian. You've no idea how much it means to me that you bothered to make this happen…apparently defying time to do so."

Reassured, Christian's smile is wide as he says, "I told you, baby; anything. I do have a request, though."

"Oh?"

"When you put your foot on the accelerator, would you please remember that I'm undergoing treatment for anxiety?"

Deftly reversing out of the parking space, Ana is laughing as she heads towards Grey House.

* * *

Author's note: I liked their house in the books, so we'll go with that; the only difference being that Taylor, Gail and Sophie also approved it. I'll remind you when necessary.

And I know that I said no more braiding. But he's trying so hard that I decided to give him a break;-)

Someone asked about my reference to anisurnois on the fic "Storm". It's because Ani is a writer so talented that I have to steal ideas from them to keep up;-) If you haven't read "The Master's Muse", you're wasting precious moments reading this note.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Finally ready for the wedding, Ana turns to Christian, not even realizing that she's asking his approval until he says, "Perfect." Moving close enough to trail a finger along the slightly immodest "V" of her cleavage, spreading heat through her body, he adds, "Though this is a little distracting."

An echo of pleasure left in the wake of his touch, Ana's legs are trembling slightly as she rather breathlessly reminds him, "Hey, you bought it. And we need to go."

Taking a step back, for both their sakes, Christian spreads his arms wide and glances down, saying, "What about me?"

Smiling, Ana says, "Christian, I've seen you in a tux before. Though that _is_ one of my favorite looks on you."

Gesturing that she should precede him out the door, Christian comments, "I thought my gray suit and tie was your favorite?"

Her equilibrium further threatened by memories, Ana groans and says, "Just the tie, actually. And you need to stop doing that. Today is about Jacque and Felice."

Christian chuckles and says, "Fair enough. Though I don't recall ever wearing just the tie. Maybe we'll try that tonight."

Another groan and Ana asks, "Are you going to torture me all evening?"

"Depends."

"On?"

Smiling at his own cleverness, Christian promises, "If you're a good girl, I'll also torture you all night." When she suddenly spins on her heel and returns to the bedroom, he asks, "Ana?"

Not turning, Ana says, "With you in this mood, I'll need a spare pair of panties."

Eventually on their way to the mariner, with Taylor driving, Christian asks, "Do you think we're the only guests?"

"Could be. They're both orphans and have no siblings. Jacque never knew his family. Felice, for obvious reasons, doesn't want much to do with her in-laws, and her few friends have been very cool since she announced the engagement."

"Fuckers. They're okay with paying him for sex, but they don't approve of her marrying him?"

"Perhaps they don't want a reminder of their indiscretion." With a grin, Ana proposes, "Or maybe they're just sore that he's off the market."

"And do you think she's proceeding without a pre-nup?"

Smiling, Ana says, "She wanted to. But Jacque insisted on it; stubbornly refusing to go through with the marriage until she agreed. Maybe I should have done that?"

"If you'd been a sub, or an escort, maybe I'd have let you."

"You paid your subs?"

"Not actually. But they were financially supported for the duration of the contract, and permitted to keep any items I'd bought them in the interim."

Noting his sudden unease, Ana asks, "You're still uncomfortable talking about them?"

With a shrug, Christian says, "Just not something I'm particularly proud of. I used them and they got so little in return; not even really much of my time. I'm amazed any of them lasted more than a month."

It's the first time Christian has expressed such particular regret about that part of his life, so Ana carefully chooses her words before saying, "They were all consenting adults. No one forced them to do anything, least of all you. Even part of the Christian Grey package is pretty damn good. I'd have settled for that."

Unable to conceal his shock, Christian asks, "You'd have subbed for me?"

With a nervous nod at an idea that she's barely been brave enough to consider, Ana remembers they're not alone and quietly reveals, "Uh, huh. If it was the only way I could be with you, and we hadn't fucked up with that beating; yes, I'd have cooked your weekend meals and washed your butt plugs for you." With a grin, she adds, "I'd have been terrible at it, but I'd have done it."

His grin confirming that he's joking, Christian says, "Well, fuck, Ana. If you'd just told me this before we got married, I could have saved a _lot_ of time and money."

Slipping an arm through his, Ana leans on his shoulder and says, "I dunno; it seems to be working out okay so far."

Christian kisses her temple and says, "So-so. I love you, Anastasia."

Ana sighs her pleasure and says, "You don't always call me that anymore."

"No. I'm sorry; not sure why."

Resting one hand over his heart, Ana says, "Not a complaint, darling. Hearing it only every now and then means it has so much more power when you say it, especially in that tone of voice. I like that it's special."

"_You're_ special."

"And you're very mushy today, Mr. Grey."

"I guess it's the wedding. Something about billionaire abuse survivor and her gigolo finding true love seems to defy all the odds."

"I think anyone finding true love defies the odds. We're very lucky."

Taylor is parking the car, forestalling further comment. Christian exits and offers Ana his hand to assist. She almost gracefully manages to get herself and the champagne-colored chiffon evening gown out of the car, but hasn't taken a step before his firm grip stops her. Bending to bestow a tender kiss on the back of her hand, Christian says, "Yes, I am."

Felice's stunning yacht "butin de guerre" is appropriately decorated for the evening wedding; every suitable surface supporting fairy lights and multi-hued flower garlands. As they'd suspected, Ana and Christian are the only guests. Despite this break with tradition, the civic ceremony is quite moving, Ana managing to keep her emotions in check enough not to cry. They festoon the happy couple with petals, and even Felice's permanent staff join in the congratulations. The chef outdoes himself with a splendid meal. Replete, Ana takes a sip of champagne and begs Jacque, "Tell me how you proposed."

Jacque laughs lightly and says, "We told you."

"Felice told me. I want to hear your version."

Gazing lovingly at his new wife, Jacque says, "A little while after we said goodbye to you, our time together was drawing to a close. Flick had been…off, all day. I didn't think much of it, because I was also depressed about maybe never seeing her again."

Felice interrupts, "You didn't tell me that."

Smiling and lifting her hand to his lips, Jacque then says, "I'm glad that I hid it well. When she said that we needed to talk, and then produced legal papers, I was irrationally terrified that she was about to terminate the contract early. So I couldn't immediately process what I was reading and hearing."

Felice smilingly interjects, "You asked me to repeat what I'd just said."

Also smiling, Jacque says, "Which was that you were giving me half of your considerable wealth and asking me to stay."

Turning her beatific gaze on Ana and Christian, Felice reiterates, "He refused, but knelt down to offer a counter proposal."

Beaming at the happy couple, Christian says, "So, you're unemployed, Jacque?"

Jacque laughs and says, "I guess so, though I have some money saved. Oh, and I've a business proposition for you…to discuss another time."

Intrigued but wary, Christian merely nods and lifts his glass, saying, "Welcome to Seattle. Will you look for a place right away, or live on this monstrosity for a while?"

With perhaps partly sincere umbrage, Felice says, "I'd take it as a personal favor if you didn't refer to my home like that. And, yes, we're looking. Jacque is a city boy, but I'd prefer something further out of town, so it could take a while."

After a lovely evening of conversation and music, Ana notices the signs that Felice has had enough. Approaching Christian, where he is discussing something with Jacque, she gently puts a hand on his shoulder. Looking up at her touch, he smiles and asks, "Time to go?"

Grateful that he's perceptive and amenable, Ana nods, even as she gestures to Jacque that Felice has one of her headaches. After almost tearful farewells, eased by the fact that the newlyweds will now practically be neighbors, Ana and Christian head back to Escala. Once in the car, he asks, "What was that code you have with Pretorius?"

With a quiet smile, Ana asks, "Jealous?"

Also smiling, Christian shakes his head and says, "Curious…mostly."

Thinking that, not so long ago, an angry demand for answers would have been his response to her having a secret with another man, Ana doesn't hesitate to explain, "It's not something Felice likes to discuss, but she has persistent symptoms from when her first husband hit her with a hammer. She often gets headaches and tires very easily. When they decided to settle here, Jacque asked me to keep an eye out for it, as the symptoms get worse when Felice ignores them."

Christian nods and says, "Post-concussion syndrome. Though I've never heard of symptoms persisting for so long."

From the front seat, Taylor says only, "I have."

Staring their driver for a second, Christian says, "Yes, I suppose so." To Ana, he continues, "I had it for a while when I was young; one of those risk-taking activities I told you about. Grace was beside herself, because I could have easily died before she found out about the concussion. It made me finally begin to accept that my actions had an effect on other people; good or bad. Before that it was just a constant struggle to be…normal, I guess."

Ana nods and says, "You mentioned once that you didn't feel like you fit in with your adoptive family?"

"Yes. I…it seemed like no matter what I did, how hard I tried, it was never good enough."

Surprised, Ana says, "That doesn't sound like Grace or Carrick."

Christian smiles and says, "It wasn't. Any activity I showed an interest in, they encouraged and supported me. Every milestone I achieved, they congratulated and rewarded me." A hint of the smile lingering, he continues, "And only now can I imagine their delight the first time I refused to eat something. Even if I hadn't been practically starving when they found me, there's no way I would have dared not empty my plate. I was terrified that any hint of rebellion would make them get rid of me. So I pushed myself, excelled at everything I could, all the while waiting for a hand on my shoulder and the news that I would be returned to my old life."

Her heart breaking for him, and hoping to lighten the mood, Ana asks, "What food?"

Christian grimaces and says, "Fava beans. Still can't stand them. I think it's the texture."

Ana smiles at his expression and says, "Me, neither. It feels like they're choking me. What made you feel not good enough? You said something once about feeling less than perfect?"

After considering a moment, Christian nods and says, "Yes. Imagine what a state I was in when they found me; skinny, beaten, filthy…putrid really, my hair long and unkempt. For so long I'd been told that I was shit – often literally – until I finally accepted that as my truth. Now imagine if they'd put nice, clean clothes over all that and treated me with kindness. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?"

"I think so. No matter what happened, no matter how much they loved you, underneath you still felt like that dirty little boy?"

"Do, sweetheart, though you're certainly helping to alter that believe. Elliot was an orphan, yes, but he didn't have any of my issues. So, from where I stood, everything seemed to come so easily to him. And Mia…despite all the pretty things in that house, I didn't really understand the concept of true beauty until I saw her as a baby. Everything else paled in comparison. And you've met my parents. How the hell can anyone compete with them? Carrick, though his presence terrified me in the early days, soon became a constant source of strength in my life; an unfaltering example of what I could never hope to achieve. And I still sometimes fancy that Grace is more than human. She seems almost too good to be real."

Ana smiles and says, "She certainly does live up to her name." Nervous of the answer, she hesitates before asking, "But this is changing now? You said that I'm helping?"

Lifting her face to his with a gentle hand on her chin, Christian kisses her and says, "Yes, baby. Only you can. Though everyone who cares for me has made a difference."

Not willing to let that one slide, Ana cautiously corrects him, "They don't care for you, Christian."

After a deep sigh, Christian slowly nods once and says, "Everyone who loves me." One eyebrow raised and a quiet smile on his lips, he asks, "Satisfied?"

Leaning against him, offering them both comfort, Ana says, "I will be when you really believe it. Thank you, for explaining all that. It sort of makes sense, even though I can't really relate to what you felt back then. But how did…you're so good at everything. How could you achieve so much when you never felt worthy of success?"

She feels rather than sees Christian's shrug, and then he says, "Exactly _because_ nothing ever felt like enough. I didn't require trophies, diplomas, or other ostentatious measures of success. But I almost viscerally needed to do well at anything I tried; couldn't put a task aside until I'd mastered it. Plus my compulsions required…require, perfection in all things. Also, there was the lingering fear of poverty driving me on. I don't know what would have stopped me if you hadn't come along."

Finally at ease, Ana says, "Darling, you haven't stopped. You've barely slowed down."

Christian chuckles and says, "Well, when you've being going at breakneck pace for years, slowing down feels like stopping."

Suddenly weary, Ana only smiles at that and then says, "I think maybe I've got the perfect nickname for you."

His tone mildly threatening, Christian says only, "Oh?"

Lifting her head to gaze lovingly at him, Ana reveals, "Cuddly Christian."

Erupting in laughter, echoed by a derisive snort from Taylor, Christian then says, "I don't think so, baby."

Supremely confident of both the accuracy of her statement, and his understandable resistance to the idea, Ana maintains, "It's who you were meant to be. I catch a glimpse of him every now and then."

Her love for him only grows when Christian silently considers her words, slowly nodding as he then says, "Perhaps. Certainly you bring that out in me." With a grin, he adds, "Though nowadays I'm quite partial to 'bastard' as a term of endearment."

With all that she feels for him in her voice and her eyes, Ana tenderly reaffirms, "Bastard."

* * *

Christian is already awake and in his office when Ana wakes the next morning. Confident that he can now tolerate a different kind of play, she manages to sneak up on him and cover his eyes, even as she says, "Guess who?"

He startles, but his quick reflexes keep him from overreacting, and Ana feels his eyes crinkle with humor when he asks, "Angie?"

Too shocked at his temerity even to be angry, Ana exclaims, "No, it's fucking not."

"Patricia?"

Ana knows that he's playing, but she can't stop that unpleasant feeling of jealousy rising within her as she pouts, "Not her, either."

Christian appears to give it some thought and says, "Oh, I know; Mandy?"

It's too much. Ana drops her hands from his eyes and makes to storm off, saying, "Fuck you, Grey."

Of course, Ana hasn't taken a step before Christian hauls her onto his lap and kisses her well enough to make up for his teasing. Somewhat appeased, she protests, "That wasn't nice. I was just playing."

Unrepentant, Christian grins and says, "So was I. I'm just better at it than you are."

His playful mood dispelling any lingering resentment, Ana laughs and says, "Yes, I guess you won that round." Having resisted the urge to look at what was so engrossing that he could be surprised, she asks, "Why are you working this early, and on a Saturday? More problems?"

Swiveling Ana on his lap so she can see the computer screen, Christian explains, "No, baby; not more than on an average day, anyway. Pretorius sent me the details of that business proposal. Oh, and I'm going to throw a party for them; sort of let everyone who matters know that they have my support. It won't stop the rumors that will undoubtedly follow them from the east coast, but it might keep people from giving them a hard time."

Ana leans back to kiss him and says, "I think that's a wonderful idea. Thank you, Christian." Returning her attention to the screen, to see what is to her meaningless charts and graphs, she asks, "So what's this proposal; any good?"

"It is. He wants to open a Mixed Martial Arts gym downtown. There're a few others making a half-hearted attempt at it. But there's room for more, and he really knows his stuff. I'd say this is exactly why he's been saving his pennies. Did you know he's an Ultimate Fighting champion? And he's already attracted interest from other experts; a former Olympic wrestler for one. I'm not only keen to invest, but may join."

"You're tired of Claude?"

"Not at all. But he only knows kickboxing, which is distance fighting. I'm sure you can guess why I never went in for any sport that involved grappling or other close fighting techniques. Now that I can tolerate being touched, it's time to expand my skills."

Worried that he perceives some threat she's overlooked, Ana asks, "Because?"

As if it's obvious, Christian says, "Because I like to excel."

Glad that he's so at ease with a personality trait that is at least in part a symptom of the abuse he suffered as a child, Ana smiles and says, "Yes, you do. Can I come, too?"

Immediately wary, Christian says, "When Bastille thinks you're ready, sure. But you've just started classes, Ana. I've been doing this for years. I'd prefer you stayed with private lessons, for now. It's too easy for an instructor to miss something in a larger class."

His concern for her the one trait that never seems to diminish, Ana sighs and says, "Okay, but only because you didn't actually make it an order, and I enjoy classes with Claude." Smiling at the memory, she says, "Funny that I met him before meeting you. He doesn't remember, of course."

Suddenly anything but at ease, Christian demands, "What?"

Again sighing, praying for calm, Ana says, "This is usually where I reassure you that I haven't done anything wrong. How about we try something different this morning?"

Christian glowers at her for a few seconds. His face suddenly transforming with a radiant smile, he says, "You're right. I'm sorry. I'd love to hear how Claude could fail to remember meeting someone as unforgettable as you. But I trust you and can live without knowing."

It's so much more than she was expecting and Ana gapes at him for a moment before saying, "I just meant that you don't need to be jealous. I've only ever been attracted to you." Shaking her head slightly at his generous display of trust, she explains, "We didn't actually speak. The day I met you, he was coming out of your office, saying something about golf. He looked right at me and smiled. That's it."

Christian smiles and says, "Stupid fucker. He didn't even hit on you?"

Catching his sudden good humor, Ana shakes her head and smilingly says, "Not a word. I'm not sure he even really saw me."

Suddenly serious, Christian says, "But I did."

Her body heating up in reaction to his sudden ardor, Ana agrees, "Yes, you did." Having recognized her answering passion, Christian is untying the sash at her waist when she reminds him, "Driving lesson."

Standing, with Ana in his arms, Christian carries her towards the chaise lounge as he says, "Don't worry, baby. I'll make the knots good and tight."

Her groin tightening almost painfully in response to this promise, Ana knows she's only minutes away from her first orgasm for the day. She groans and says, "It's not fair that you can do that to me so easily."

Whipping the sash from her waist, the silk hissing as he does so, Christian says, "Not fair? Baby, I've been hard since you covered my eyes."

Having been on his lap this entire time, Ana giggles and says, "Well, that's true." When he suddenly stands and walks away from her, she asks, "Christian?"

Smiling, even as his motions explain his purpose, Christian says, "Just shutting the door, baby. And I kind of like it that you forgot."

Realizing that, just for a moment, there had been literally no thought in her mind other than her lover and what he was about to do to her, Ana shakes her head a little and says, "What have you done to me?"

Kneeling beside her, gently unveiling her naked body with a casual caress, Christian's eyes are alight with passion as he says, "Do you know what the Pope asked Michelangelo, on seeing the sculptor's exquisite portrayal of David?"

Already almost lost in sensation, Ana gulps at the power of her feelings for Christian and says, "Nope. What?"

"How do you know what to cut away?" When Ana smiles, Christian continues, "You've guessed; Michelangelo replied, 'It's simple. I just remove everything that doesn't look like David."

* * *

Author's Note: I take it, from your gentle nagging, that this one was a little late? Sorry about that. I was nursing my mother through minor surgery. If you've ever tried to make someone obey you, when they have at one time wiped your ass, you'll know why I didn't have time for writing. She's now well enough to drive and I'm back at my desk. Do keep up the nagging, if I'm taking too long. It has no hope in hell of making me go any faster, but it makes me feel loved;-)

I think this one is winding down, unless you have a burning question about how a kinky billionaire and former virginal student mesh two very different lives together? Thanks to AriadneInNaxos for wondering about Christian's feeling of "wrongness", in relation to his adoptive family. I'll address cra8tiveink's question next chapter. As always, thoughts, comments, questions or concerns all welcome and, thank you, for reading.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

With Christian's idea of a small welcoming party for Jacque and Felice being his family and almost two hundred of the country's elite, those familiar saber-toothed butterflies are attacking Ana's stomach as they approach the venue in a limousine. Christian squeezes her hand, where it rests in his. When she looks at him, to offer a weak smile, he gently asks, "Do we have to go through this every time? You're as good as anyone in there."

They're both shocked by Taylor's sudden, "Better."

Christian gestures to their driver and agrees, "Just so."

Ana smiles at both of them and says, "Thank you, Taylor." Of Christian, she asks, "Weren't you ever nervous about going to this sort of thing?"

"Still am, baby. I just don't let it take over."

"Rich people make you nervous?"

Clearly surprised that she's asking, Christian says, "Baby, almost everything makes me nervous. You know this."

Realizing she should have guessed that, Ana shakes her head and says, "You're amazing."

His mouth quirking in a smile, Christian says, "I am?"

Leaning against his shoulder, Ana says, "Yes. I'm okay now, thank you."

"No more nerves?"

"Oh, I'm still nervous. But, if a wuss like you can get through it, so can I."

Christian is dangerously quiet for a moment and then says, "Just for that, you have to think of a toast for Felice, and stand up to deliver it at the end of the evening."

Shocked, Ana looks at him to protest, "What? No. That's not how it works, Christian." With a nervous glance at Taylor, she hisses, "You can't just make up punishments." When he only stares at her, that suddenly annoying eyebrow raised as a challenge, Ana says, "Fine. I trust you. But you're breaking the rules."

The car is pulling up outside the building, Taylor having successfully negotiated the sea of reporters, and Christian says, "And you're stretching them to the limits by deliberately provoking me when I can't do anything about it for several hours."

When Ana cheerfully reminds him "And you wouldn't have it any other way," his only response is a smile.

With a now established ease, the couple wait for Taylor to open a door, and then Christian helps Ana from the car, leaning close as she exits to whisper, "By the way, you look stunning tonight, Mrs. Grey."

Even as she bashfully lowers her gaze and blushes a little at the praise, Ana knows that he's done it on purpose. But there's nothing she can do about the reaction; a kind word from Christian is worth ten from anyone else. The resulting storm of camera flashes confirms that their exchange has not gone unnoticed. Desperate for some way to even the playing field, Ana suddenly drops her clutch purse. Christian's quick grin confirms that he's on to her. Nevertheless, he gracefully squats down and picks up her purse, wiping imaginary dust from it with his sleeve before gazing up at her as he returns it.

With every half-way decent photographer having waited for the moment when a smiling Ana accepts the purse from her tuxedo-clad husband – him practically on his knees – night turns to day for a few moments. Christian stands and kisses Ana's cheek as he murmurs, "Round one to you, I think."

It's the same venue that Christian and Brit use for their charity events. So Ana is at least familiar with the layout, though tonight the dining tables are larger and a full orchestra is playing gentle background music. Christian is greeted by several beautiful people as they make their way across the room. He introduces Ana to them, but her nervousness has returned enough that she quickly forgets their names. The first person Ana recognizes is a typically excited Mia, who babbles at them as she embraces each in turn. When she floats away to greet someone else, Ana whispers to Christian, "How come Mia can hug you?"

Christian grins and quietly replies, "I could never stop her. If you find a way to control her, please do let me know."

Smiling, Ana nods and says, "I guess a toddler wasn't much of a threat?"

"Exactly. It was still…uncomfortable, but bearable. I suspect only because I'd known her forever. Plus, her attention span means she never lingers." Nodding towards the door, Christian adds, "The guests of honor have arrived."

They move over to a wide-eyed Felice, in a modest darkest-blue evening gown, and an attentive Jacque, in a vintage black tuxedo with white waistcoat, who warmly greets Christian as the women embrace, saying, "Thanks, for this. I've banned Flick from reading the newspapers until things settle down. Your support should help a lot."

"Or make you a target. But I'm glad to help. You're on, by the way."

"The gym?" Suddenly elated, Jacque continues, "Wonderful. I'll get the paperwork to you."

Greeting Felice, with a polite kiss on the cheek, Christian then says, "You happy with divide and conquer? Ana can introduce you to our family and friends while your husband I work the room."

Knowing how shy Felice is, Ana realizes this is the perfect plan, and is smiling her love for him as she and Felice intone at the same time, "I'd like that."

With schmoozing out of the way, it's time for dinner. As the last delicate morsel passes Ana's lips, she leans back, wondering if it's actually possible for a stomach to be happy. Peering at her, perhaps a little too intently, Christian asks, "What did you think of the meal?"

"Mmm…delicious. Everything was so good." Suddenly realizing why he's waiting so eagerly for the answer, Ana says, "You chose the menu to please me."

His face lighting up with a satisfied smile, Christian says, "The wine list, too."

Almost in tears at his tender concern, Ana says, "Will you still insist on the lie that you're selfish?"

"Completely; doing this for you gives me pleasure, too."

The constant din makes it unlikely that anyone can overhear them, but Ana leans in close, just in case, and says, "We're pleasuring each other in public, now?"

Christian's eyes blaze with passion and he says, "Maybe later. We're here for a reason." Standing, he continues, "To that end; time to help Felice with _her_ nerves, I think."

Ana watches with amusement as a flustered Felice at first tries to refuse Christian's request for a dance, until Jacque persuades her. Ana can't hear what Christian then says as their eyes meet, but she's not surprised when Jacque approaches her and says, "Would you care to dance, Mrs. Grey?"

Not that she actually needs his permission, but Ana feels easier knowing that Christian is okay with the idea, and puts her hand in his as she says, "I'd love to, thank you."

The orchestra seamlessly moves into a waltz, even as the volume increases. Considering how he moved that time they danced together at Cruz Bay, Ana isn't all that surprised to find that Jacque is an expert at this sort of dancing, too. When he looks at her with one eyebrow raised in question, she realizes that her thoughts had made her smile. A few couples have joined them, but there's still enough room for relative privacy, so she explains, "I was just thinking that being able to waltz must be part of your credentials; in your former profession, at least."

Jacque grins and reveals, "Yes, though the ladies do like to tango."

Ana giggles and says, "Not with a clichéd rose in your teeth?"

Apparently in earnest, Jacque says, "Oh, yes. You'd be amazed. Mostly all they want is some romance in their lives."

Realizing that something must be different about his last ever client, Ana says, "But not Felice."

Sparing his wife a glance, where she twirls safe in Christian's arms, Jacque's gaze is softer when it returns to Ana, and he says, "No, not Felice. She craves only kindness."

If there was ever any doubt in Ana's mind that what Jacque feels for Felice is real love, it must be dispelled by the warmth in his voice when he speaks of her. "Then I'm glad she found you."

Flashing a brilliant smile, his teeth looking almost impossibly white in contrast with his light-brown skin, Jacque simply says, "So am I."

As the tune ends, Brit is waiting to dance. With a grin, Ana asks, "Me or him?"

"Either. But I meant you, dear girl."

Jacque makes the decision for them, literally bowing out as he says, "All yours."

Leading as gracefully as he can on the now fairly crowded dance floor, Brit says, "He's cute."

Luxuriating in that familiar, comforting feeling of peace that seems to envelope her whenever Brit is near, Ana smiles and says, "He's also married."

With an almost convincing grimace of pain, Brit says, "Such a waste; just like with Christian."

She knows he's teasing, but rises to the bait, anyway. "I'd prefer to think otherwise."

His eyes sparkling with mirth, Brit says, "Well, you would." Suddenly serious, he asks, "A better week?"

"Much, thank you. Things have settled down." Mindful of so many ears nearby, Ana continues, "I'm kept out of the legal loop, but things are going well there, too?"

Discreet as ever, Brit nods and says, "On track for a satisfactory resolution." His serious mood disappearing as quickly as it appeared, he says, "I'm going to dip you."

"No, you're not." The twinkle in his eyes confirming that he's not listening, Ana warns "Brit," but it's no good, and all she can do is be grateful that tonight she's wearing panties, as her hair almost skims the floor when he suddenly and expertly dips her before bringing her back into his arms. Laughing at the ridiculous stunt, Ana says, "You're incorrigible."

Looking over her shoulder for a moment, Brit smiles and says, "And, you're welcome."

When he then bows and backs away, Ana knows that it's Christian who touches her elbow. Turning into his arms, she smiles and says, "Hello, again."

Spinning her across the floor, Christian says, "Looked like you needed rescuing."

"Not really. But I'm sure he knew you wouldn't be able to resist doing so."

Clearly surprised, Christian glances towards his friend, smiles and says, "That was sneaky."

"So, whom did you ditch for me?"

"Mom. She didn't mind. Her hip is playing up tonight."

"She's hurt?"

"Arthritis."

"But…isn't she too young?"

Christian smiles and says, "She'll be thrilled that you think so." Leaning close, he quietly reveals, "She's fifty-eight, Ana."

Shocked, Ana's step would have faltered if Christian would permit it, and she says, "She looks at least a decade younger than that."

"She maintains that it's the kids she works with; apparently, they keep her young."

The music again ends and a vaguely familiar man is waiting for his chance with Ana. Christian steps aside, surreptitiously tapping Ana twice on the arm as he does so. Suddenly nervous, despite this reassurance, she warily assumes a respectable stance in the stranger's arms as she says, "Uh, I'm sorry; we met before, but I don't recall…?"

Smiling, the tuxedoed young man says, "Dharma; Johnny Dharma." At Ana's sudden giggle, he at first looks confused, and then says, "Oh, I see what you mean, especially with the tux. And I do like martinis, though I prefer mine stirred; shaking them with ice dilutes them."

Still smiling at the comparison, Ana asks, "So James Bond is a light-weight?"

"Absolutely. But I'm a genuine welterweight."

Catching on that he's talking weight divisions, Ana asks, "What's the difference?"

"About fifteen pounds."

Conversation stalls for a few seconds, and then Ana says, "So, you know Jacque?"

"Not until tonight, though I'm interested in his new training school."

"Are you an Ultimate Fighter, too?"

With a smirk, Johnny says, "On a good day, yes, though I've never actually been in the cage. I'm a boxer."

"Cage?"

"Nickname for the UFC ring. The championship used to be referred to as no-holds-barred, and I guess the idea of two fighters in a cage suited that myth."

"Sounds horrible."

Johnny laughs and says, "It's not so bad nowadays. Many women are joining the competition, too."

"And what weight division would I start as?"

"You fight, Mrs. Grey?"

"Not exactly, and please call me 'Ana'. I've just started kickboxing lessons."

Johnny's entire demeanor changes, as if he's reassessing his opinion of her. Holding Ana a little away from him, he studies her body a moment before resuming their close stance, and pronounces, "No more than flyweight; probably light flyweight, in boxing terms. You could stand to put on a few pounds."

Not genuinely upset, Ana says, "That's a little presumptuous when we've just met."

With an easy laugh, Johnny says, "Sorry. I just meant that it might help with your training."

"Oh. Then you're forgiven." With a small shrug, Ana says, "I presume that will change anyway. Claude says that I'll put on weight as my muscle tone improves."

"Claude…Bastille?" At Ana's nod, he smiles and says, "Then you should be ready to kick my ass in a few weeks."

Grinning, Ana says, "I don't think Christian would like that. He's a little cautious where I'm concerned."

There's something more than politeness in his voice when Johnny says, "I'm not surprised." Straightening his posture, as if physically reining in his mood, he quickly says, "And does Christian also train with Bastille?"

"Yes, for several years, though he's considering Jacque's gym, I think; something about expanding his skills."

Nodding, Johnny says, "Good plan. Kickboxers don't do so well in MMA unless they also train in submission techniques." At Ana's obvious confusion, he explains, "Choke holds, wrist locks; that sort of thing. Christian is considering competition?"

"I don't think so." Her eyes widening in horror at the thought of Christian's beautiful face beaten and bloodied, Ana adds, "I hope not."

With a gentle smile, Johnny says, "Seems like you're cautious about him, too."

Blushing at being read so easily, Ana jokes, "No. It's just that we live in the public eye and people will suspect spousal abuse if he's black and blue."

Her charming partner is still laughing as the music ends, and he says, "Another? Or time for a rest?"

"Rest, please."

Offering Ana the crook of his arm, to escort her off the dance floor, Johnny says, "Probably just as well. If looks could kill, I'd be dead by now."

Guessing what he means, Ana soon spots Christian at their table and, yes, his gaze is a little intense. "Oh, dear."

"Problem?"

"Not for me. But you'd better avoid him for a few minutes."

Clearly unperturbed, Johnny guides Ana to her chair and says, "A pleasure, Ana." To Christian, who stood as they approached, he suggests, "Considering why we're here, Grey, I think a little demonstration might not be out of order."

His tone too calm, Christian sits as he asks, "You and I?"

"No, my friend; you and Pretorius. Ana says you're qualified."

When Christian's black gaze swivels to her, Ana defends, "All I said was that you've been training with Claude for a while." Glaring at Johnny, she asks, "You mean a martial arts demonstration, don't you?"

He's nodding even as Mia overhears and excitedly exclaims, "Oh, please, Christian. I've been dying to see what you can do."

As if his sister hasn't even spoken, Christian stares at Johnny for a few seconds and then says, "Okay. Find Pretorius and set it up for later. If security sees a cellphone out during the demo, it will leave this building in pieces."

Beaming his pleasure at the idea, Johnny says, "Excellent. This should liven things up a little." With a nod to Ana and Mia, he's gone.

Wondering just how much trouble she's in, despite having done nothing wrong, Ana offers her open palm to Christian. After only a moment's hesitation, he accepts and brings the hand to his lips before saying, "We're okay. Just don't like him."

Not even bothering to moderate her voice, because they're surrounded by family and friends, Ana says, "Christian, you wouldn't like anyone who danced with me."

Finally relaxing a little, he smiles and says, "True." Suddenly standing, he says, "Come on. I need some air."

With an apologetic glance over the table, Ana is not quite hauled through the nearest exit. When Christian looks behind them and shakes his head once, Ana guesses that he's ordering Taylor to stand down. They're in a small garden, now dimly lit with hanging lanterns. Effectively alone, Ana says, "Christian, I don't have a change of clothes."

Clearly surprised, Christian stops and stares at her, then shakes his head and chuckles, saying, "I like the way you think, Mrs. Grey, but I was being literal in there; I just need to get away for a while, with you. I told you these things make me nervous."

"Oh."

Laughing again, as he draws her into his arms, Christian says, "Disappointed, baby?"

"A little, yes." Smiling, Ana says, "Though I honestly don't know how we'd manage to fuck without ruining this dress."

Idly caressing the curves of her body, only the width of slate-blue satin between them, Christian says, "Maybe when we get home, I'll do exactly that."

Her senses already in turmoil from his jealousy and ensuing affection, they're further tested by his hot hands on her body and the passion of his kiss. By the time Christian comes up for air, Ana means it when she says, "Fuck it. I don't care about the dress."

Christian chuckles and touches his nose to hers before saying, "You'll care very much when you have to walk back in past my family, with only tattered shreds covering your ass."

Ana giggles at the idea and says, "Point well made, Mr. Grey. You sure you're okay? I know you said that we shouldn't let your neuroses determine our social life, but I can't enjoy myself when I'm worried that my actions are torturing you."

Holding her a little tighter, Christian rests his chin against Ana's hair and starts moving to the music floating towards them as he says, "I'm okay, sweetheart. I still have a strong urge to hurt anyone who even looks at you with lust in their eyes…which is at least half of the people in that room. But the medication must be helping, because I didn't actually picture Dharma's death." Suddenly drawing back enough to see her face, he asks, "Though what the fuck was he doing, studying you as if you're a side of beef?"

Ana smiles, suddenly understanding the cause of Christian's unease, and explains, "Oh, that. With him being a boxer, we were mostly talking about fighting, and I asked him my weight division."

Christian has stopped moving before she's finished the sentence and he practically growls, "Don't even think about it."

With only a few lessons under her belt, Ana hadn't even considered fighting competitively – is not sure if she ever will – but that part of her that abhors injustice angrily says, "Oh, so it's okay for you to fight without protection, but I'm not allowed to fight at all?"

Apparently confused by the vehemence of her response, Christian says, "Ana, I've been training most of my adult life. And you've barely started."

Wondering why she's persisting with the idea, Ana can't stop herself from saying, "How many years before I can fight?"

Squirming with discomfort at the very idea, Christian is honest enough to say, "Never. I'd _never_ be okay with it."

"What happened to not letting your neuroses rule us?"

Running a hand through his hair, Christian says, "Fuck, Ana, you can't…I can't…"

Taking pity on him, because she knows that this is truly the best she can hope for right now, Ana says, "I don't have a desire to pummel or be pummeled. But I'd very much like you to verbally acknowledge my right to do so."

Finally understanding that she'd just been making a point, Christian visibly relaxes and rests his forehead against hers to whisper, "You and your defiant nature will be the death of me."

Sensing that all is again well between them, Ana says, "I'm not hearing the words."

With a sigh, Christian maintains the contact between their brows as he gently says, "I acknowledge your right to participate in unarmed combat, if that is what you desire. And I trust you to take all possible precautions if you do."

When they kiss this time, it's more tender than passionate, and they just hold each other for a while. Eventually, Ana draws back enough to look up at Christian and say, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So, this is something I don't have to really worry about for a few years, right?"

"Right." With a cheeky grin, Ana teases, "Oh, in the meantime, I was thinking of taking up competitive car racing." When Christian suddenly spins on his heel and heads inside, Ana says, "Christian?"

Shaking his head as he walks, Christian says, "All of a sudden, a roomful of strangers seems like a friendly environment."

Laughing, Ana has no way of catching him in heels, so she says, "Christian? Baby, I was just playing."

Stopping so abruptly that Ana almost runs into him, Christian grins and catches her in his arms, saying, "I know. And the state of that dress will be the least of your concerns when we get home."

Her body again heating up at the delicious thought, Ana stammers, "Wh..what you do have in mind, Mr. Grey?"

His hands gliding over her body, Christian quietly promises, "I'm going to cuff you, spread-eagled, to the cross, then tear this delicate material to shreds and flay what's left of it from your tender flesh." Almost casually cupping a hand over her groin, he leans by her ear to whisper, "If you manage not to come, I'll release you and fuck you on what remains of this exquisite gown."

Hypnotized by the description, her legs barely able to support her, Ana can't even speak for a few seconds and then squeaks, "Okay."

With a grin that confirms he knows exactly what effect he's having on her, Christian purrs, "I wasn't asking your permission, baby." Grabbing her hand, he's again striding inside, this time with Ana in tow, as he says, "Come on, let's dance."

* * *

Author's personal note: Haven't forgotten your question cr8tiveink; just clearly not in control of the story;-)


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

At one point in the pleasant evening, when Ana returns from the bathroom, she sees Christian in a heated conversation with Grace – Carrick apparently mediating – to one side of the auditorium. Since it's clearly a private conversation, she resumes her place at their table and chats with Kate in the meantime. When Christian returns, alone, his expression is dark. Confident that he'll tell her what's going on, in his own time, Ana merely slips her hand in his, offering what comfort she can. Suddenly, they're walking. Christian only stops when they're alone in one of the many corridors.

Imprisoned against the wall by his body, her arms stretched above in his vice-like grip and his mouth hard on hers, Ana struggles to keep a clear head when everything in her is screaming for closer contact with him. When he permits enough space between their lips, Ana gasps, "Christian, wait, please. What's going on?"

Trapping both her wrists in one of his hands, Christian undoes the side zipper of her dress with the other and slides it inside, pulling her hard up against his body as he says, "I need you, baby...need _this_."

It's the same avoidance behavior that he's practiced since before they met. Confident that he's ready for a different method of coping, one that will ultimately be better for his mental health than fucking his troubles away, Ana ignores her body's desperate need for his and says, "Please, just talk to me. What happened with Grace?"

Bringing himself almost under control with a deep, shuddering breath, Christian releases Ana's hands and spreads his palms flat against the wall either side of her head when he says, without meeting her eyes, "I fucked up."

The strain evident in his voice confirming that he's very upset, Ana gently cradles his face and brings his gaze to hers. "I worked that much out by myself. _How_ did you fuck up?"

With a grimace, Christian reveals, "Mom doesn't want me to fight. I explained that it's just a demo; Pretorius and I aren't stupid enough to really go at it without armor. But I guess she's patched me up too many times, and…maybe she has a right to be wary of my temper. She's insisting that I'll lose control and someone will end up injured. You're not worried, are you?"

Only half joking, Ana reveals, "I am now." But she remembers to have faith in him and quickly continues, "No, not really. I trust you to stay safe, if only because you know that I couldn't abide you being hurt. You said something to Grace that upset her?"

Suddenly pushing himself away from her, to lean against the opposite wall with arms folded defensively across his chest, Christian bleakly intones, "This is _exactly_ why I don't fucking tell you stuff."

At first confused, Ana soon guesses that he's quoting. Then comprehending where Grace's thoughts would have turned, given her bottomless guilt over her then teenage son's sordid affair with one of her best friends, all she can think to say is, "Oh."

Christian breathes a humorless laugh and says, "Yeah. She didn't even say anything, just stared at me for several seconds before storming off. But I swear that, in her eyes, I saw something break."

Christian's voice cracking on the last syllable tugs at Ana's heart. Struggling to put herself in his position, when all she feels is empathy for Grace and sympathy for her scared little boy husband, Ana suddenly understands that it's not necessary. Forcing a cheerful tone, she asks, "Do you trust me?"

Clearly baffled by the question, Christian is frowning in confusion as he says, "You know I do; only you."

"Then stay here, okay?"

As she heads off on her self-appointed mission, Christian says, "Uh, baby?"

Worried that he's not brave enough after all, Ana turns back, ready to defend her case. When he only motions doing up her zip, her face is bright red as she complies and says, "Thank you. Back in sec."

Of course, Grace being the lady she is, the Trevelyan-Grey's are still saying their goodbyes. Ana approaches them and begs, "A quiet word?" When there are no inquisitive ears nearby, she addresses them both, "Christian is torturing himself over what he said to you, because he's only ever wanted to please you, and feels just awful for causing you more distress. In the past, he would have avoided facing those feelings and expunged his guilt through..." A flush rising in her cheeks as she wonders how to phrase it, Ana settles for, "…physical activity, of one sort or another. But we've been doing a lot of work with John Flynn…a _lot_, and I think Christian is ready to face…" Their impassive stares finally eroding her courage, Ana trails off and pleads, "Could you just give him a chance to apologize? I know you love him. And he needs your help, or he'll live forever in fear that one day he'll do something bad enough to destroy that love."

Apparently genuinely horrified, Grace exclaims, "I could _never_ stop loving Christian."

Resisting rolling her eyes, idly wondering if Christian's aversion to that trait has cured her of the need, Ana says, "Yes, _I_ know that."

Ana marvels that she can actually see the moment of comprehension in Grace's eyes. Suddenly, she's in a warm embrace and the older woman says, "How have we been lucky enough that you found us? You're the best thing that's ever happened to this family."

Unused to such praise, Ana is slightly pink as she extricates herself and makes them all laugh a little when she says, "You'd better be quick. Your second son is not a patient man."

Despite this caution, Ana also has to endure a hug from Carrick, and wait while Grace dries her eyes, before they both follow her past curious stares from several people. When they reach Christian, he's still leaning against the wall, apparently having taking Ana's command literally. On seeing his parents, he stands up straight, his arms held loose at his sides, stoically awaiting the consequences of his actions. Grace practically runs into his arms. His sudden boyish expression of pleasure at this surprise development is almost comical. Carrick saunters over and adds his forgiveness with a much more restrained pat on Christian's shoulder. Wondering if she should stay or go, Ana settles for keeping her distance while the scene plays out. Eventually releasing her son, Grace takes a step back and dries her fresh tears before saying, in an almost stern voice, "Ana said you have something to say?"

Apparently still stuck in little boy mode, Christian literally shuffles his feet a bit as he begins, "Uh, yes. I'm very sorry for what I said, and for cussing. I know that you…love me and have only ever wanted what's best for me. I'm also sorry for ever keeping secrets from you. I trust you'll understand it was done out of fear that was well established before you even found me, and is in no way a reflection of your abilities as a parent. I can't imagine anyone doing a better job than you have. If anything about me pleases you, it's your doing. I'd have been lost without you. I owe you everything." Finally including Carrick in the apology, he concludes, "Both of you."

Glancing at Ana, revealing yet more happy tears, Grace says, "He does have his moments, doesn't he?"

Relieved laughter erupting from her, Ana agrees, "I've always thought so."

Wondering if she's seeing something that's never happened before, Ana's own craving for a "normal" family means that she's entranced when Carrick affectionately ruffles Christian's hair as he murmurs "Well done, son," before kissing Grace's forehead and finally walking over to her. Offering Ana the crook of his arm, he says, "Princess, would you care to dance? I suspect they'll be a while."

As they walk away, Ana hears Grace gently say, "Sweetheart, _everything_ about you pleases me."

In fact, Ana dances with Carrick and then a few formally dressed strangers before she again finds herself in Christian's arms. His smiling face confirms that things went well with Grace, even before he kisses her cheek as they dance and says, "Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome, but I didn't really do anything. You're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?"

"You know…for…not…" Helpless how to express "…_letting you fuck me against a wall_," in polite company, Ana blushes yet again and cannot finish.

Christian laughs, sending a delicious feeling through her body where it melds to his, and says, "God, you're adorable. No, I'm not mad." With a small shrug, he says, "Though Mom still is."

"Not about the fight."

Smiling proudly at her cleverness, Christian says, "No. Not about the fight. Though they're still heading home early, as she's a little tired." Ignoring the established dancing stance to wrap both arms around Ana, Christian effortlessly moves to the music as he murmurs, "I love you, Mrs. Grey."

Resting her palms on his chest, following wherever he leads, Ana smiles and says, "And I love you, Christian."

No one else gets to dance with Ana this night. Even if they weren't deterred by the fact that her feet are sore enough to warrant her husband holding them in his lap as he massaged them for several minutes, not even those guests skilled in martial arts prove brave enough to ignore Christian's death glare every time someone approaches after that, one arm draped possessively over her shoulders. The first time, Ana is surprised. The second, she turns to him and makes a show of moving his increasingly unruly mop of hair off his brow. At his obvious confusion, she explains, "Just trying to find where the 'Fuck off' is written."

Haven't noticed their interplay, Mia giggles and says, "Even when we were kids, he didn't like to share."

Grinning, Christian says, "That's because you'd always insist on putting Ken's clothes on my G.I. Joe, _Meow_."

Ana splutters laughter at the nickname, even as Mia pouts, "You promised you'd never call me that again."

Looking to Ana, his eyes sparkling with good humor, Christian "seriously" asks, "Does that sound like something I'd say?"

Trying to contain her mirth, for Mia's sake, Ana shakes her head and says, "No, it really doesn't. But perhaps you could now?"

Christian rolls his eyes and says to Mia, "Fine. I won't use that name ever again, _unless_ you laugh at me and tell my wife stories from my youth."

Still pouting slightly, Mia says, "I guess that's fair enough. So, when are we going to see you get your ass kicked?"

Christian laughs and says, "Never." With a glance behind them at Taylor, who nods and moves away, he continues, "But you'll get to see me kick ass any time now."

Not that she really doubts is, but Ana asks, "How can you be sure Taylor knew what you wanted?"

"Number one; he's good at his job. And, two; he's been dying to see what I can do. I don't mind working out with him, but I've always insisted on privacy when I train. I'm guessing he's been thinking of little else since Dharma suggested this moronic idea." Anticipating her next question, he continues, "It's moronic, because it won't really prove anything. But it'll get people talking, and that's one of the things a new business needs."

Leaning against his shoulder for comfort, Ana whispers, "I'm not sure I want to watch."

Equally quietly, Christian says, "I understand, baby. That's why I haven't asked it of you."

"But you'd like me there?"

"I would, only because it will put me at ease. But it's not necessary."

"You're sure Jacque won't hurt you?"

"I'm sure. Even if he wanted to, Felice would have his balls for it."

Ana laughs and says, "True. Okay, I'll watch. But if you get hurt, I'll kill you."

He kisses her hair and says, "Thank you, baby." As Taylor returns, signaling "ten minutes", Christian eases Ana upright as he adds, "And now it's time for your speech. Did you work out the reason?"

Glaring at him, Ana says, "Other than to torture me? It was to distract me from my earlier nerves. Thank you, bastard."

Christian captures her chin and kisses her anger away, then says, "We'll both stand up. I'll speak first, okay?"

Grateful for that small concession, because she's never spoken before such an intimidating audience, Ana is more sincere when she repeats, "Thank you."

With the traditional method of attracting attention – cutlery on quality crystal – Christian persists until conversation dies down and then says, "Thank you all for coming this evening. You know by now why you were invited. When I first met Jacque Pretorius, I wanted to punch his lights out. But, over the weeks since then, we've talked quite a bit and my attitude towards him has changed somewhat…now I _really_ want to punch his lights out." As the laughter dies down, Christian lifts his glass and toasts, "Welcome, Jacque. You're a cheeky bastard. But I know you'll be of great benefit to our city." After taking a sip, he puts a comforting hand around Ana's waist and concludes, "My wife, Anastasia, wants to say a few words about Felice, and then any of you who care to see me exact my revenge on Pretorius can join us in the garden."

Waiting for the ensuing excited babble to settle down, and thinking that she might have been best going first, after all, Ana nervously glances at the few notes she's scrawled on her napkin and then looks at Felice. Seeing her own trepidation mirrored in her new friend's eyes somehow has a calming effect. Smiling, all trace of fear forgotten, Ana mentally throws her notes aside and says, "Felice, I've only known you a short time. But, in that time, you've become an inspiration to me. You are, without a doubt, the bravest woman I've ever met, and I'm honored to call you my friend." She waits for the applause to die down and holds out a hand towards Felice as she concludes, "Now, could you hold my hand while our men act like boys?"

This elicits some laughter and more applause, though Ana assumes it's for the idea of watching a fight, rather than her speech. Felice is walking towards her with a grateful smile on her face when Christian kisses his wife's cheek and says, "That was well done."

Arm in arm with Felice, as they head towards the garden, Ana says, "They'll be sensible, right?"

Felice pats her hand and says, "Jacque isn't about to risk hurting the backer for his first business."

With everyone focused on the fighters, as they start removing jackets and shoes, Ana quietly asks, "I presume you offered to finance him?"

"Yes. He refused that, too. He has a strange notion that, if he doesn't make his own way, I'll eventually wonder if my money had anything to do with his proposal."

"I'm pretty sure it didn't."

Turning her shining smile on Ana, Felice says, "I'm positive it didn't. But I do admire him for being stubborn about this."

The guys, now clad only in tuxedo pants – which looks so wrong and, oh, so right – run through a few stretches, and Ana whispers, "I'm a bit worried that I'll find this hot."

By Ana's ear, a man whispers, "I _know_ I will."

Ana giggles and smacks his arm, hissing, "Back off, Brit."

Brit accepts her attack in good humor and says, "Chris thought you might need a commentator."

"You know about fighting?"

Even as she asks, Ana knows the answer, and is smiling as Brit explains, "A sport in which two scantily-clad men beat each other until one submits?"

Ana laughs again and says to Felice, "Brit is…uh…"

With a grin, Felice finishes, "I get the picture. We met earlier."

Christian beckons Ana over. Not willing to let go of Brit or Felice, she drags them with her, the mostly male crowd making way for them. She can now see that Claude Bastille is officiating, which reassures her a little. She'd noticed that he was here, but hadn't spoken to him and offers him a nod of greeting now. He returns the gesture, adding a wink, presumably to further reassure her that all is well. Noticing that the soft ground is now marked off with a brightly colored ring, Ana wonders how, until they get close enough to see that it's joined electrical cords.

Looking supremely confident and happy as the proverbial kid in a candy store, Christian approaches Ana and pleads, "For luck?"

Immediately wary, because he'd reassured her it was only a demo, she counters, "Which you won't need, right?"

When he only grins at her, Ana knows that he's deliberately messing with her, but he just looks too damn cute at the moment to be angry with. So she kisses him, strangely to rowdy applause and whistles. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Felice surreptitiously shake her head at Jacque, and wishes she'd thought of that.

The "fighters" are both lightly springing on their feet when Claude gestures to Christian and explains, "We have an exponent of American Kickboxing." Then gesturing to Jacque, he adds, "And someone who's trained in Muay Thai, Judo and other disciplines. They've agreed to one round under our kickboxing rules, and one round under UFC rules. Obviously, this is a friendly fight – light strikes only – so no one is leaving in an ambulance, right?" This last sentence clearly being a command, Christian and Jacque merely nod, not taking their eyes off each other. Apparently satisfied with that, Claude steps back as he concludes, "When you're ready, gentlemen."

Ana's heart is pounding loud in her ears; whether it's from excitement or fear for Christian, she doesn't know. Brit murmurs, "They'll slap hands or bump fists and then it's on. Assuming they behave themselves, Claude won't step in. He'll just indicate if one of them wins a point, or would have won the fight."

Grateful that they seem to have thought about this, Ana nods and says only, "Thanks."

Sure enough, the guys touch their bare hands together and start moving around, their guards up in a relaxed ready stance. Jacque attempts a front kick. Even as dodges it, Christian connects with a lightning fast spin-kick to his opponent's ribs; the slap of his foot on bare flesh clearly audible. Jacque dances around a bit, obviously suffering a little from the impact, though his grin only widens. Felice relaxes her grip on Ana's hand, where she'd reflexively clutched it only seconds before. Claude nods his satisfaction and holds a hand out towards Christian, indicating a valid strike.

Brit promises Ana, "If Chris had used his heel, that would have cracked a rib and, if he'd also aimed at his head, this would be over for real."

The rest of the round goes pretty much the same way, with Jacque winning only a couple of points, never being able to land a kick on Christian's body. When Claude calls 'time', the friendly combatants are glistening with sweat and, even in this light, a few darkening marks can be seen on Jacque's torso, while Christian's pale perfection is marred only by his fading scars, barely visible in this light. Despite this evidence of how one-sided the bout had been, the two men cheerfully shake hands and Ana is sure that Jacque says, "You're mine now, Grey."

Again grinning like a kid, Christian laughs and says, "Not quite yet."

Relaxing her grip on Felice's hand, Ana asks, "You okay?"

With a rather weak smile, Felice says, "Yes, though I'm not sure I could watch a real fight."

"Me, neither." Turning to Brit, Ana asks, "Jacque will win the next round?"

With a grim nod, Brit reveals, "Unless Chris has also been secretly mastering Ju Jitsu all these years, it'll be a walk." With a shrug, he adds, "Kind of the point of this demonstration."

"Will that be the choke holds; stuff like that?"

His lips a terse line, Brit agrees, "Stuff like that."

Her heart again pounding, this time in sympathetic fear, Ana asks, "Why are you scared?"

After only a moment's hesitation, Brit quietly reveals, "Unless Claude steps in, Christian will need to signal his surrender by tapping Jacque."

Somehow certain that Christian has _never_ yielded to an opponent, Ana swallows and asks, "Or?"

"Or there's the potential for ligament damage, even broken bones."

"Oh." Staring at Claude until she catches his eye, Ana only relaxes when he again winks at her. Acknowledging his kindness with a nod, she says to Brit, "It'll be fine."

After a drink of water and a rest period, they guys again face each other.

* * *

Author's note: If you like that they're fighting topless, your thanks should go to sillie j, for not being too proud to beg;-)


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

After an overview of the new rules, Claude again says, "When you're ready."

It's an entirely different fight this time. Jacque immediately rushes at Christian, apparently in an effort to tackle him. Christian counters with a perfect front kick to the chest; more pushing than striking. Halted in his tracks, Jacque grabs at the limb in a crossed-arm hold that Ana can't even see properly. Brit hisses, "Going for a kneebar; leg lock."

Too fast to see how he does it, Christian somehow uses Jacque's chest to aid his momentum as he leaps into the air and twists out of the hold, performing a cartwheel in mid-air and landing on his feet in a ready stance. Jacque quickly recovers, bringing his guard up and shaking his head slightly in disbelief as a smiling Christian says, "I told you; not quite yet."

When a smiling Claude silently awards Christian the point, Ana looks to Brit, who quietly explains, "In a real fight, Chris would have kicked to the head on the way through. I'm guessing he avoided it, because he couldn't have controlled it enough not to do damage."

It's the last point Christian wins. He does his best to keep it a standing fight, but Jacque eventually gets under his guard, throwing himself onto the ground at Christian's feet and somehow flipping the bigger man to the ground – prompting a collective "whoa" of appreciation from the crowd – where it becomes a wrestling match. Not that the task of subduing Christian proves easy for Jacque; time after time, he attempts a submission hold and is foiled by his opponent's strength, reflexes and street-fighter instincts. Claude is repeatedly glancing at his watch, counting down the seconds until the round finishes, when Brit hisses, "Shit; arm bar."

Ana is now practically clutching Felice as Christian rises to his feet in a desperate bid to free his right arm from Jacque's clutches, but it's no good; arms and legs wrapped around the limb, hanging upside-down, Jacque is clearly now in control of the fight and they both topple over, where more pressure is applied until Christian actually grunts in pain. Ana is whispering "Please, baby, please," when Christian seems to impossibly hear her and suddenly taps Jacque, who immediately releases his grip.

Springing to his feet, Christian offers a hand to Jacque, as he cheerfully says, "Congratulations. We should do this again some time."

Visibly relaxing at Christian's chivalry, Jacque accepts the offered hand and lithely rises to his feet, shaking his head as he exclaims, "Fuck, you're fast."

As if it's a signal, the crowd closes in, offering congratulations to both competitors. Felice shakes her head and says, "I'm glad I didn't know him when he was doing this for a living."

Ana offers a weak smile and agrees, "Yeah."

Having detected something amiss, Felice asks, "You okay?"

Only now noticing that her bottom lip hurts from being abused by her teeth throughout the second round, Ana quietly reveals, "Christian helped Jacque to his feet with his left hand."

With a comforting arm on her shoulders, Brit says, "He'll be fine; just a bit tender for a while. He tapped out in time, and Jacque didn't apply full pressure."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." Smiling at both of them, Ana says, "Still, I'd rather not go through that again."

Christian emerges from the crowd, still being congratulated for his efforts with back slaps and shoulder pats. Ana wonders if anyone else can see that the attention is making him uncomfortable; his polite smile appears more like a grimace to her. He's now wearing his dress shirt – unbuttoned – and carrying his jacket and shoes. He approaches with eyes only for Ana and rests a hand on her cheek, gently running his thumb over her slightly swollen bottom lip as he asks, "Okay, baby?"

A shocked gasp of laughter erupts from her and Ana says, "You're asking _me_? What about you?"

She knows that the impromptu event has cost him when he merely shrugs and says to Felice, "Looks like you're here for a little while, at least. They're asking for a blow-by-blow. Want a ride home?"

"That's okay; I'll wait. Thank you, Christian."

Understanding that she's grateful he pulled his punches, Christian shrugs and says, "Yeah, well, I didn't want to make you a widow so early."

Ever the gentleman, Brit offers Felice his arm and says, "Shall we see what fun we can eke out of this party?"

After lengthy goodbyes, despite the party being pretty much over, Ana and Christian are finally heading home and she snuggles against him, saying, "Thank you, for tapping."

Christian shrugs yet again and says, "He had me. He didn't actually have enough pressure on it to pop the joint, so I probably could have got out of it. But he definitely had me, so it wouldn't have been fair to continue."

Wondering how to ask in a way that won't get his back up enough to make the task impossible, Ana decides on politeness and asks, "May I please see your arm?"

Christian tenses and says nothing for a few seconds. But then releases her hand and rolls up his right sleeve to reveal a swollen redness just inside his elbow. When Ana looks at him in silent plea, he sighs and says, "Taylor; would you mind having a look at my arm when we get home?"

"Certainly, sir."

Touching fingertips to her lips and then to the injury, Ana again leans on Christian's shoulder as she says, "Thank you." Only then does she remember the lustful promise he made earlier in the evening. "Oh. That's why you're upset."

Christian groans and murmurs, "Apart from the fact that I'm a sore loser; yeah. It's not serious, but I've only limited movement in my forearm; not enough control for the whip."

Putting her lips by his ear, Ana whispers, "Have you no imagination at all, Sir?"

Christian's breath hisses in past his teeth at her challenge, and he turns his head to deliver, in the same conspiratorial manner "Flogger. I can use that left-handed," before nipping her earlobe, sending a pulse of pleasure straight to Ana's groin. When she literally squirms in anticipation, he chuckles and asks, "You okay, baby?"

Sensing that he's finally relaxed, Ana again settles against him and slips one hand inside his still open shirt to rest the palm on his chest as she says, "I am now."

* * *

When Ana wakes, the bed is unusually warm. Having guessed the reason, she smiles and carefully rolls over to see that Christian is still in bed and fast asleep. Lying on his stomach, arms sandwiched under his head, which is unfortunately turned away from her, and the covers concealing only the bottom half of his naked body, his beauty almost takes her breath away. As if she truly has no control over it, one hand snakes out and gently starts tracing the contours of his muscular back.

Ana feels the moment when he wakes up, his old instincts causing him to tense for a second. But then he relaxes, sighs, and says, "Already, Anastasia? Even I need rest, baby."

She knows that, despite not getting to sleep until almost dawn, after a marathon session in the playroom, he'll be ready for more. Giggling, she says, "You're not fooling anyone, Mr. Grey."

Adjusting his position a little, but still without looking at her, Christian chuckles and says, "Still, every muscle is aching this morning and my arm hurts like hell. How about you pamper _me_ for a change?"

It's the only thing she regrets about submitting during their scenes; that she so rarely gets to just offer Christian pleasure, though the fact that he so enjoys giving _her_ pleasure makes it easier to tolerate. Actually trembling with excitement, Ana says, "Thank you, Sir."

Christian groans, and says, "Unless you start that shit, then I won't be responsible for my actions."

Ana laughs again and says, "Sorry. Can I do anything for the arm?"

A deep sigh of pleasure, as if he's guessed what she has in mind, and Christian says, "Just distract me."

Grinning, as she suddenly flings the bedding aside to uncover his body, Ana deliberately purrs, "Yes, Sir."

Christian groans again and says, "Fuck, Ana. Would you go easy on me? I'm rock hard already."

Confident that he wouldn't really have it any other way, Ana kneels beside his legs, preparing to caress his entire body with her nipples, and promises, "No."

Despite the fact that he's clutching the edge of the mattress in need by the time Ana's breasts reach his shoulders, Christian manages to let her stay in control. Curious what it will feel like, Ana then stretches out along his back, matching skin-to-skin from toes to fingertips. Just relishing the feeling for a few seconds, Christian then rather breathlessly comments, "Wish I could see what you look like right now."

Kissing the side of his neck, Ana asks, "Want me to get the camera?"

"No, though that's a good idea. We'll reenact this and put it on timer next session. Right now I'd very much like it if you'd finally fuck me."

Grinning, Ana nuzzles his hair and murmurs, "What's the magic word?"

"Fucking _now_."

Ana is still saying "Actually, that's a phrase, not a word," when she's suddenly on her back, imprisoned by Christian's body. Her already acute state of arousal climbs still further at his aggressive foreplay, and she says, "I win."

Intent on his new goal, Christian imprisons her arms and pushes his knees between her legs, even as he locks her ankles in place with his, preparing to satisfy both their needs, as he absentmindedly asks, "Win what?"

Not a thought in her head that doesn't involve this gorgeous man, Ana lovingly breathes, "You."

Without further preamble, Christian slowly enters her as he hisses, "Yesss." Less than a minute later, he arches his back and stills for a few seconds, then collapses against Ana, keeping most of his weight from her as he gasps, "Fuck, I love Sundays."

Ana laughs and says, "Evidently. It's certainly nice not to have to worry what happens next for a change." When Christian smiles and slides his hand between their bodies, she protests, "No, that's okay. I really enjoy occasionally making it only about you." When he appears uncertain, she adds, "Just as much as you enjoy making it all about me."

Apparently satisfied that Ana isn't pining for her orgasm, Christian grins and rolls off her as he says, "Okay. And, as you're in such an obliging mood, maybe you could fetch my breakfast and newspaper?"

Laughing, Ana heads to the en suite as she says, "I can do that."

After a toilet break, Ana dons only a toweling robe before heading back into the bedroom, to see that Christian is again asleep. Clasping a hand over her mouth to stifle her joyful laughter, she tiptoes out of the room and gently closes the door before heading to the kitchen. As usual, one of their loyal minions has left his favorite newspaper on the counter. Knowing that Christian must be truly exhausted to sleep like this for the first time since she's known him, Ana decides to bother with a full breakfast.

Only later, when she's arranging a tray with the fruits of her labors, does she notice that the newspaper is opened to the entertainment page for a reason; the opening lines of the gossip column read, "Ever wondered what happens behind the closed doors of those black-tie events?"

The picture is grainy and the lighting isn't great, but it's captured the moment when Christian does the aerial cartwheel to escape Jacque's hold. The article offers only sketchy details about the fight and is careful to not come out and actually state identities, merely saying "rumored to be." But Ana knows that her security conscious husband will want answers. Scanning her memory for who's on duty this morning, Ana remembers and guesses that the coward is lurking nearby. Sure enough, he appears, looking very sheepish, when she bellows, "Luke!"

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Do we know who took this photo?"

"No, ma'am. Security tried to keep an eye out for such subterfuge, but it was a big crowd and the…perpetrator was careful to avoid using a tell-tale flash. Their online edition also features the photo, so it could be anywhere by now. As you can see, it's poor quality, but unfortunately not quite poor enough; anyone who knows Mr. Grey will recognize him…same for Mr. Pretorius."

Genuinely pissed that Christian's generous gesture, to help Jacque start his business, should result in more harassment by the press, Ana runs a frustrated hand through her hair as she silently contemplates violence towards the smiling headshot of the columnist and then asks, "Can we make them retract it?"

"No, ma'am. I checked with Legal. As there's no slander and the venue is technically a public place, there's nothing to be done. Perhaps Mr….uh, you and Mr. Grey could apply pressure on the columnist or newspaper, but that may only make matters worse. I'm sorry, Ana."

"Not your fault. Thank you." Clearly grateful for the dismissal, Sawyer's heading for the door when Ana adds, "Oh, and thank you for including me in your statement."

Turning back for a second, Sawyer, says, "Of course. You and Mr. Grey are a team. Anyone who doesn't recognize that is in for a huge shock and a big disappointment."

Genuinely moved by this assertion, Ana says, "Thank you. Oh, why were you so afraid about the article? You weren't even there last night."

Again looking ashamed, Ryan confesses, "I was worried you might order me to tell Mr. Grey."

Ana laughs and says, "Wuss. But, rest assured, I'm not that cruel. And I'll try to make sure he doesn't take it out on the staff that _were_ there…no promises, you understand?"

"Understood. Thanks, Ana. If you need me, I'll be hiding in the office."

Ana laughs again, surprisingly at ease now that she knows there's nothing to be done about this new drama, and jokes, "Don't hide _too_ well. I may need protection any minute now."

Clearly unready to accept the possibility of Christian taking his anger out on her, Sawyer inclines his head and says "If you say so, Ana," before leaving.

Her cell is still in the bedroom, so Ana uses the landline to call their publicist, who answers, "Garth."

"Adam, it's Ana. Sorry to ring you on a Sunday, but…"

"Yeah. I've seen it. Wish you'd told me this was going down. I could have done something last night. There's no hope of reining it in now, even if we go after the paper."

"I didn't know. It was a spur of the moment thing. Christian thought it might help Jacque with his business."

"Undoubtedly." After a moment, Adam says, "Still, it might be a good thing. Anything that humanizes Christian without making him appear weak can only be good for his reputation. Though, by the look of it, he's more _super-_human. Is he okay?"

"Fine, thank you. Sleeping in for a change. So, you advise that we ignore it?"

"I advise that there's not a damn thing you can do about it now that it's online, and any action may exacerbate matters."

"Okay. Thanks, Adam. And thank you, for looking into it on a Sunday morning."

"Welcome, Ana. But next time he pulls a stunt like this, give me a call, okay? No matter what the hour."

"I sincerely hope he'll never do it again. But I'll remember, thank you."

Rearranging the newspaper, to look as if it's untouched, Ana finishes loading the breakfast tray and carefully carries it back to the bedroom. Christian appears asleep, but opens his eyes and asks, "What took you so long?"

"You mean, other than you were fast asleep?"

Eyes twinkling, he jokes, "I was just resting my eyes."

Putting the tray on his lap and climbing in beside him, Ana teases, "And quietly snoring. I'm glad you slept." Gesturing to his arm, she asks, "Did you take something for it?"

"Uh, huh; sexy wife." At her tender glare, he adds, "Yes, I took something. Thanks for breakfast."

Ana tries to keep her cool as they eat. But her covert glances at the newspaper alert him, and Christian asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing serious. Check the entertainment section." As he complies, Ana says, "Luke and Adam already checked; they don't know who sneaked a photo, and we can't sue the paper or make them retract anything."

Having already scanned the article, Christian is reaching for his phone as he says, "We'll fucking see about that."

"Please, darling. Let's just enjoy our day off and not worry about it. Even if you can get through to the editor on a Sunday, anything you say will further convince them that it's you in the photo."

Christian hesitates, staring at his phone for several seconds and then replaces it before saying, "Fuck. You're right. You okay about this?"

Relieved that their morning won't dissolve into Christian bellowing into his phone, Ana assures him, "I'm fine; just worried how you'd react. You're not going to take it out on the staff, are you?"

Immediately back to angry, Christian says, "I told them to make sure everyone kept their phones out of sight."

Wondering if she'll ever be able to confront him without this pounding of her heartbeat, Ana says, "An impossible task, given the situation; low light, lots of noise and a hopeless disparity in numbers."

Christian holds her gaze for a while, his expression eventually softening into a quiet smile and he says, "I've always been impressed with your powers of negotiation. I'll make sure they know you're on their side."

Smiling, Ana shakes her head and insists, "I'm on _your_ side. You'll just feel like crap if you unjustly punish them." When his eyes blaze with passion at the word "punish", Ana laughs and says, "Oh, no. I'm still sore from last night. Finish your breakfast."

Grinning, Christian says, "Yes, ma'am."

When they're done, Christian puts the tray aside and silently invites Ana into his embrace. Smiling, she settles against his side and asks, "So, what are we doing today?"

"How about we get our twenty minutes out of the way, soak in a bath until my body recovers and then make love until our eyes pop out?"

Ana giggles and says, "Good plan. You want to go first?"

"Uh, okay. I was really impressed that you bothered to check the angles before showing me the newspaper article. Knowing that you'd already investigated made it easier to calm down."

"Exactly why I did it. And, thank you. You ready to talk about what you and Grace discussed last night?"

Christian groans and says, "I guess so."

"We don't have to. I don't really need to know."

"It's okay, baby…just…she hinted that Elena's sexual preferences are not the best kept secret in the world."

"That she prefers young men?"

"No, baby. To my knowledge, I'm her only conquest that violates that taboo. I'm speaking of her fondness for kink."

"Oh. So…Grace knows that you and I…?"

"Well, she was too embarrassed to ask for specifics, and there's no fucking way I was about to volunteer details, but I don't think she'd be too surprised if one or both of us ever show up with bondage marks on our wrists." When Ana says nothing, he eventually asks, "Okay, baby?"

"I think so. Just trying to imagine the impossibility of ever again looking your mother in the eye."

Christian laughs and says, "Right there with you, baby. It was excruciating. But I'm glad to have no more secrets between us." After a moment, he reveals, "She also threatened me."

"With what?"

"Uh, pretty much every bad thing imaginable, if I ever hurt you in any way."

Ana giggles and says, "Okay, I'm better now. She's amazing."

"Apparently, the feeling is mutual. She also demanded assurance that Elena wouldn't be permitted to have anything to do with her future grandchildren, and was happy to hear that you'd already exacted that promise from me."

This time Ana only smiles and says, "Good." Her thoughts turned in a specific direction by the comment, she then asks, "Did you ever try to track down your father? Oh, you okay talking about that?"

"I'm okay, but there's nothing to say. The fucker was either dead or didn't give a damn about me. Why would I bother?"

Wary of his sudden unease, Ana gently asks, "Well, aren't you worried at least about genetic conditions? I mean, you seem healthy, but…I'm sorry."

"It's okay, baby. That used to be one of my fears, so I found out; cost me a small fortune, but it was money well spent, and furthered their research."

"What?"

"Genome mapping. I've had my pedigree analyzed. I know exactly what problems I've inherited and will pass on to any offspring."

"And?"

"Predisposition to heart disease, obesity and diabetes, which is curbed by diet and exercise. Unsurprisingly, I possess a variation of a gene common in people addicted to alcohol or cocaine, and will always struggle with that peril. Plus a clotting issue that will only be a problem if we have a daughter; easily countered by medication, if necessary. That one's recessive, though, so might not even be an issue. The good news is that there's an equal chance any offspring would be naturally resistant to malaria."

"Well, that's something. Clotting issue?"

"Yeah, my birth mother would have had abnormal menstrual bleeding, bruised easily – I do remember always seeing bruises on her – and had difficulty carrying a pregnancy to term. It would also explain why I was underweight as a baby." When these revelations are met only with silence, Christian reminds her, "This time is for talking, baby."

"Yes. But you don't like when I empathize with her."

"It's okay, baby. I can't feel sorry for her, but she was certainly a tragic figure, and we've agreed that nothing is forbidden during our twenty minutes."

After only a moment's more hesitation, Ana says, "I was just thinking that, if she'd had miscarriages in the past, your birth must have seemed like a miracle. She must have loved you very much."

Predictably, Christian tenses in defiance of the concept. After a few seconds, he relaxes somewhat and bleakly declares, "If she'd loved me, she would have fucking given me up. We lived in the worst part of Detroit, but I could have pissed out the window and hit someone who'd have done a better job at raising me than she did. Fucking bitch doomed me with her selfishness." It's a conversation killer. After a while, Christian attempts a laugh and says, "Yeah, maybe you're right; not ready to talk about her. I'm sorry, babe."

Relieved and grateful that he's dragged himself out of his mordancy, Ana rests a hand on his chest and says, "It's okay, darling. Thank you, for sharing that much. Even though it pains me you feel that way, I'm thrilled that you're at least able to express it now. You were so long without a voice, even after you managed to speak." After a smile, she continues, "Grace says it shocked the hell out of them. You just suddenly started talking; whole sentences, as if you'd never stopped."

Christian chuckles and says, "Yeah. It was fear, not lack of ability, that had kept me mute. Though my mouth had trouble forming the words for a while, and my vocabulary was stunted. But I caught up pretty quick, by becoming a voracious reader."

"What was the first thing you said?"

"She hasn't told you? Well, that's a surprise; she's not known for discretion. My first word in that family was 'Mia' and she's never let me forget it." When Ana is again silent for several seconds, Christian's voice is kind when he says, "You're crying again, aren't you?"

"No…a little. I think I'd like that bath now, please."

* * *

Where credit's due: cr8tiveink for asking what would happen if Christian tried to find out about his father. Not quite the answer to your question, but I enjoyed thinking about it, thank you. Perhaps Ana will eventually persuade him to investigate.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The morning of Monday 8th August, 2011, Ana answers the phone to hear her assistant say, "A Dr. Greene for you, Mrs. Grey."

With Hannah being another of the people who apparently refuse to use her first name, Ana doesn't even bother correcting her anymore, merely saying, "Thanks. Put her through."

"Dr. Greene, hello. Anything wrong?"

"No, Mrs. Grey; just a follow up call. It's been six weeks since I inserted the implant. Any adverse side effects?"

Shocked that six weeks has gone by so quickly, even as she's surprised that it's only been that long since she and Christian got back together, Ana says, "Uh, no. I honestly forget about it most of the time. I haven't even had any bleeding. But you said that's normal, right?"

"I said it's common. Still, we should probably do a pregnancy test, just to be sure."

Her heart yammering and an instant headache looming, Ana says, "But…you said it's almost one hundred percent effective, and lasts for years. That's why I chose this method."

"Yes; less than one percent chance of failure. But, even with those odds, most women would rather be sure. If the test proves negative, as I expect it will, we can assume the implant has achieved full efficacy and you're protected for at least three years."

Relaxing a little at the woman's calm, professional manner, Ana says, "Yes, of course. You're right. When do you suggest we do this?"

"It won't take long. I can fit you in today, if you like? I'll check that the implant is in place, and do the pregnancy test while you wait. Does that suit?"

"Uh, yes, thank you. I'm busy this morning. But I can stop by this afternoon?"

"All right, Mrs. Grey. Shall we say…2:45?"

"Thank you. I'll see you then."

Ana tries, she really does try to focus on work. But she's obviously not doing very well, because a few people ask if she's okay. With morning meetings out of the way, she's finally able to seek solace the only way she's ever known; music and reading. With her ear buds in place and the usual pile of manuscripts before her, time finally starts to speed up and suddenly Hannah calls to remind her that it's time for her appointment. Even with the calming preparation, Ana's still a bundle of nerves by the time she's informing Dr. Greene's receptionist, "Mrs. Grey."

Checking the screen before her, the young woman says, "Of course, Mrs. Grey. Please take a seat. It won't be long."

Sure enough, only a few minutes later, she's told, "Mrs. Grey? The doctor is ready for you now."

Dr. Greene is her usual, efficient self and warmly greets Ana while shaking her hand, then says, "You're nervous about the test?"

Of course, she's terrified, but Ana thought she'd been doing a pretty good job of concealing that fact and asks, "What makes you say that?"

Gesturing to Ana's hand, she says, "You're sweating. It's warm in here, given the varying stages of undress women might endure, but Mary prefers it a little cool, so the waiting room is adjusted to suit her needs."

"Oh. Yes, I'm nervous. I know you said there's not much chance, but Christian and I are really not ready to be parents."

Still relaxed, apparently genuinely unconcerned, Dr. Greene hands Ana a familiar plastic container as she says, "Then lets allay your fears right now." Motioning to the small en suite, she adds, "You know what to do, I believe."

Muttering a "Thanks," Ana performs the necessary, wondering if anyone ever does it perfectly. After washing the sealed container and her hands, she returns the sample to the doctor – now wearing disposable gloves – who invites Ana to sit down and then immediately sets about finding the answer for them. Snapping off her gloves, she then says, "Well, Mrs. Grey, you're pregnant."

Some part of Ana's brain understands those words, but even so, the concept is too much for her and she can only manage, "What?"

Washing her hands and sitting down opposite her, the doctor patiently explains, "Pregnant. This is a very reliable test; the chances of it failing are very small indeed."

Moving quickly from denial to anger, Ana snaps, "That's what you said about the implant."

With only a small nod of agreement, Dr. Greene then asks, "What method of contraception did you use in that first week?"

"Condoms. Why?"

"Anything else?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, sorry. I forgot that…anyway: spermicides like gel, foam, film, cream or jelly. I presume you would have contacted me before opting for anything more complicated."

Vaguely recalling the literature on all these options, and more, Ana is shaking her head as she says, "No. Nothing like that, Christian doesn't even like condoms, but obviously understood the need for them."

"Condoms alone are still very effective. But that increases the chance that you fell pregnant before the implant became active to two percent." A pause and then, "Are you considering termination?"

Genuinely shocked, Ana says, "What? No. No, I couldn't…I mean, I don't think less of anyone who…no, it'll be okay." Suddenly thinking of a new fear, she paws at the inside of her left bicep, where a tiny scar and slightly raised lump signify the contraceptive implant site, as she almost frantically says, "Oh, God; what about the chemicals?"

Quickly rising from her seat and coming around to her, Dr. Greene calmly says, "It's all right, Mrs. Grey. The chemicals are compatible with the human body, and I'll remove the implant now. There's a chance you might have to endure an early term spontaneous abortion anyway – it's actually more common than people would like to believe – but the fetus should be unaffected after only this long under the influence of the hormones, okay?"

Focusing on her breathing, until it returns to normal, Ana says, "Okay. Thank you. You'll remove it right now?"

Inspecting the site as she speaks, the doctor nods and says, "Immediately; takes only a few minutes. Hmm…the implant is definitely still in place. My best guess is that you're between five and six weeks pregnant. But I'll do an intrauterine ultrasound, too. So we can see what's going on." Standing straight and resting a reassuring hand on Ana's shoulder, she continues, "Would you like a glass of water, first?"

Now prepared for any consequences, Ana says, "No, thank you. I'd rather just get this done."

Of course, Ana instantly falls in love with the tiny, white blip on the screen. When it suddenly disappears, she tenses and looks to the doctor, who smilingly asserts, "Just your muscles." Pointing to the screen, she says, "Look, already visible again. And, yes, about five weeks. Everything looks just fine. Congratulations, Mrs. Grey." Pausing the video, Dr. Greene then prints out a small screenshot and hands it to Ana, announcing, "Your baby."

Hypnotized by this new focus of her entire life, Ana just stares at the image for a while. Then shakes her head and says, "Christian is going to freak."

Quickly wrapping up the exam, Dr. Greene says "You can get dressed now," warily asking, as Ana complies, "Would you like me to be with you when you tell Mr. Grey?"

Alerted by the tone, Ana says, "Oh, no, I'm not worried. I don't think that he'll be _very_ upset. It's just…well, it's at least a few years early." Finding yet another reason to be afraid, she asks, "Oh, I've sometimes been drinking wine. How bad is that?"

"How much and how often?"

"Uh, most days on our honeymoon…God, I was pregnant even then, but never more than two glasses at a time, and usually only one. Uh, pretty much only a few glasses a week since then, if that. I'm not much of a drinker, and Christian is even less so."

Already nodding, the doctor says, "Then you're fine. My advice is to avoid it completely, even while you're breastfeeding, assuming you decide to do so. But evidence suggests that a little won't cause permanent damage. Uh, we haven't actually discussed…pain and fear can put a strain on the body, too."

Guessing what she's talking about, Ana is bright red as she says, "Yes, I…we…that's part of our sex life. Is that really bad?"

"No, not bad. I'd just avoid the really heavy scenes, at least in the first trimester, only because your body might perceive that as stress; a very stressed body is not a friendly environment for a fetus. Sex itself is fine, possibly even a good thing; likewise with light play. For similar reasons I'd also avoid very strenuous exercise outside the bedroom or playroom, at least until we know this baby is here to stay, okay?"

"Okay. Though, from what Christian says, our scenes aren't really heavy. I'm more worried that…well, most days I have trouble getting into my office building because someone is trying to get a photo or statement. I find _that_ stressful."

"Not much I can do about that, I'm afraid. But, I assure you, they won't find out about your condition from this office. Would you prefer that I visit you at home from now on? There is of course a charge for that service, but Mr. Grey has always been willing to pay."

Imagining what an average day will be like if…when, the news gets out that there's going to be an heir to the Grey fortune, Ana gratefully nods her head, saying, "Yes, please. We'll pay."

"All right. I'll be in touch to set up our next appointment." Fetching some papers from her desk, the doctor hands them over as she says, "Here's some information to get you started; diet, supplements, etcetera. Do you have any other questions?"

"Uh, tons, but none that leap to the front at the moment. I can call you if I think of anything that isn't in these pages?"

"Of course. Are you sure that you don't want a drink of water before you go?"

"No, thank you. I'll be fine. Women go through this all the time, right?"

"Certainly a lot of them."

Determined to attain a relaxed attitude, if only so she can get through the rest of her day, Ana smiles and says, "So, how I'd do; with one being calm and ten being panicked?"

The doctor finally smiles and says, "Well, I'd normally put you around a three. But, given that you're married to Christian Grey, I'll grant you a two. You seem to be bouncing back very quickly. But please don't hesitate to call me if you need _anything_, okay?"

Again that wary tone, and Ana suddenly understands why. "You're been to his apartment for something other than contraception, haven't you?" The doctor's immediate fear confirms it, and she continues, "Just one time, right? I wondered how he did that without repercussions. She hurt her arm?"

"Yes, one time. I'm not permitted to discuss the details."

Ana laughs and says, "Technically, neither am I. But since we both already know them, I don't think it matters. He said that was an accident."

"I believe him."

"Then why are you worried for me? Christian would never strike me in anger."

The doctor hesitates – Ana wonders if it's because this conversation is more personal than inserting an ultrasound wand inside her patient – and finally says, "Not the only way he can hurt you."

Surprisingly at ease now, Ana shrugs and says, "Oh, I expect a man-sized tantrum. But he'll get over it." Stowing the papers in her briefcase, Ana stands and offers her hand, saying, "Though I appreciate your concern, thank you. If you would please contact me directly, to set up the appointments? I trust my assistant completely, but the less people who know about this, the better. I know we can't keep it secret forever, but I'd like a moment for Christian to get used to the idea before it hits the headlines."

Standing and accepting the hand, Dr. Greene says, "Of course. Good luck. I'll see you soon."

Ryan is, of course, in the waiting room. On seeing her, he asks, "Everything okay, ma'am?"

Realizing that she's again not so relaxed as she'd thought, Ana covers with, "Just be grateful that you never have to endure a vaginal exam. I'm fine. It's just not much fun."

Ryan blanches and says, "I imagine not, ma'am. Can I do anything?"

Forcing a smile, Ana says, "Just take me back to the office, please."

With a driving need to think about anything other than her as yet unformed baby, and how to break the news to her volatile husband, Ana throws herself into work until Hannah eventually knocks and says, "Uh, all right if I leave now, Mrs. Grey?"

Glancing at the time, to see that she's lost a couple of hours, Ana says, "Oh, hell. Yes, go. Sorry about that. I'll see you in the morning."

When a grateful Hannah thanks her and disappears, Ana texts Christian that she's running late – her heart pounding at the words unsaid – then quickly packs up and heads for home. When she hesitates before getting out of the car, Ryan again asks if she's all right. Ana fobs him off with a comment about a persistent headache; not actually a lie. Apparently satisfied, he escorts her safely to the elevator and heads back to take care of her car.

As the digital numbers climb, Ana's dread increases. No one is there to greet her when the doors open. It's unusual, but not enough to worry about. Glad of the momentary reprieve, her feet point towards the bedroom. Suddenly, she's grabbed from behind and thrust against the wall as Christian growls, "You're late."

Dominant Christian, and she can feel that he's also horny. Ana considers for a moment just letting this play out, because he'll at least be in a better mood. But it doesn't seem right, and sex is honestly the last thing on her mind right now. So she says, "I'm sorry, baby. But could we please eat, first? I, uh, skipped lunch." Again, not a lie, though she only realized this instant that she'd completely forgotten to eat; like the old days, when Christian made her nervous enough to remove her appetite.

Christian tenses, then grabs Ana's hips and pulls her back against him, leaving her in no doubt that he means it when he says, "Okay, but you owe me a fuck, Mrs. Grey, and you'll have to be punished for neglecting your health. However, I'm prepared to go easy on you for confessing your crime."

It's the man she loves, the playful one who is always thinking of ways to please them both. The knowledge that, if her courage finds voice, she'll ruin his evening makes her heart sink. Somehow, he senses her unease and turns her to face him, asking, "Okay, baby?"

It worked before, so she says, "Just a headache."

Frowning in concern, Christian says, "I thought you don't get them anymore?" When Ana only shrugs, he angrily asks, "Still? Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"Maybe because you overreact when I do so?"

His eyes narrow dangerously and Christian warns, "You're feeling brave tonight, baby. Sure you want to play this game?"

Suddenly finding the whole thing very funny, Ana giggles and says, "Why not; might as well earn it if I'm going to be punished."

Christian's anger immediately vanishes. His expression tender, he comments, "You're in a very odd mood. I think you'd better eat." Picking up her briefcase, from where it had fallen during the friendly ambush, he takes her hand and leads Ana towards their bedroom, saying, "I'll ask Gail to serve. You've got just enough time to freshen up."

"Thank you."

Christian darts yet another concerned glance her way at these words, but says nothing. He escorts her to the door and lifts the briefcase, asking, "By your desk?"

Her desk; the beautiful, mahogany creation that Christian bought just last week and placed by the collection of books she loves so much, in order that she can work from home in comfort and solitude. Just the memory of his shyness on revealing it to her – he'd been worried that she'd feel it wasn't enough, actually apologizing and promising a splendid office in their new home when it's finally ready – threatens her resolve so much that she suddenly feels like weeping. Pushing words past the sudden painful lump in her throat, Ana still can't achieve more than, "Thank you."

Putting a hand under her chin to lift her gaze to his, Christian begs, "Can I do anything for you, baby? I hate to see you suffering."

She almost tells him then; his compassion lending her courage she wouldn't have thought possible. Actually opening her mouth to say the words, Ana then shakes her head and says, "No, thank you. I'm sure I'll feel better after I eat."

Placing an achingly tender kiss on her lips, Christian releases her and sadly says, "Okay, baby. I'll be in the dining room."

About to again thank him, Ana instead says, "I won't be long."

Every move she makes, even the incredibly mundane ones, now take on a different meaning. Sitting on the toilet, she wonders at what point in the pregnancy her bladder will be compressed by the baby enough to need frequent toilet breaks. Redressing, she runs a hand over her still fairly flat stomach as she ponders the fact that she'll soon need an entire new wardrobe. As she washes her hands, a surprisingly vivid image of a baby small enough to be washed in this very basin actually makes her hands tremble. Staring at her reflection, she berates, "You're a coward. Just tell him."

"Tell me what?" _Oh, fuck._

Now actually weak at the knees with fear, Ana turns and grasps the edge of the counter to keep from falling. Approaching, Christian calmly says, "I just wanted to tell you, while I thought of it, that I might have to go to Taiwan, this week or the next, for a few days." Now almost to her, he deceptively gently repeats, "Tell me what?"

There's no getting out of it now. She knows him well enough to understand that nothing she says or does will divert him from finding the answer to that question. Dimly aware of the pain in her hands where they're now clenching the cool marble, she says, "I'm pregnant."

"What?"

Remembering reacting with exactly that when Dr. Greene had broken the news, Ana giggles, the high pitch of her laugh an indication of her stress, and says, "Pregnant, knocked up, with child, bun in the oven, preggers…"

"Enough!"

It's the voice she can't ignore and Ana is immediately silenced, though she can feel hysteria only a moment away. When Christian suddenly and brutally grabs her arm, she idly wonders if he's capable of violence after all. But it's much, much worse. When he lifts her arm and rips the sticking plaster off, she knows that he's checking whether the wound is fresh and realizes that he's seriously considering the possibility that she may have chosen to become pregnant against his wishes and without discussing it. A blackness is crowding in on her vision and her head and heart are ready to explode as she this time snidely says, "Thank you."

He looks guilty at that, apparently sensing that he's crossed some line. But the next moment his fury returns and he demands, "Well, how the fuck did this happen? We've been so careful."

"Our baby is approximately five weeks old, which means that he or she was conceived while we were using only condoms, _before_ the implant became effective."

This knowledge at least removes the rage from his eyes. Christian runs a hand through his hair and says, "Well, fuck, that's unlucky. But it's okay, baby. We'll take care of it. You won't have to go through this alone."

Somehow guessing that his meaning is the opposite of what she'd intend by such a statement, Ana is now fighting rising bile when she vows, "I'm not getting an abortion."

Apparently truly shocked at this declaration, Christian just stares at her for several seconds, then says, "Well…what the fuck, Ana? Have you forgotten that we still live in the same apartment in which I've enthusiastically fucked fifteen other women? That our house won't be ready for weeks…maybe months? Or that I'm still seeing a fucking shrink twice a week for problems that have plagued me since childhood? Never mind the fact that we barely know each other. We can't do this now. You won't go to hell for it. Hell is what happens when parents have a baby before they're ready. Believe me, I know this for a fucking fact. You _will_ get an abortion. It's the only sensible choice."

Suddenly, irrationally at ease with her decision, perhaps because she has her answer – Christian won't be supporting her – Ana stands straight on her now steady legs and says, "Then I'd rather not be sensible. I'm having this baby, with or without you."

Shaking his head, clearly struggling to understand, Christian now looks afraid as he says, "Baby, please, see reason. We can't do this. I'm still…we'll fuck it up. Do you know what it would do to me if I failed at being a parent?"

That almost sways her, because she _does_ know him, better than he will ever suspect, so she understands that, for Christian, fear of letting down his own child is surpassed only by his fear of losing her. As gently as possible, she says, "Yes, darling, I know. But, if I let you persuade me to kill our baby, we will have already failed."

Finally, she sees the beginning of comprehension cross his gaze, but it's fleeting. In the next instant, he's spinning on his heel, saying, "Fuck this. You're on your own."

Dropping to her knees on the cold tiles, Ana announces to an empty room "Yes, I am," before finally giving in to the tears.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's note: So, CS, what did you do on Easter Monday? Wrote this chapter. After so many of you were traumatized by the previous, I had to at least make it a little better.

Again time to thank my darling Guests; particularly to the clever clogs who reminded you all about the epilogue of "On the Rocks", thus saving me from doing so in every reply. And to the sweetheart who merely commented "Bastard"; my current favorite review. Thank you. Obviously, I can't reply to you if you're signed in as Guest or have Private Messaging disabled. But I read and appreciate those comments, too.

* * *

Chapter Fourteen

She's still a weepy puddle on the en suite floor when gentle hands silently encourage her to stand. Dimly aware that it's Gail who's helping her, Ana lets herself be guided to the kitchen, there to sit on one of the bar-stools with her head in her hands until a tissue is placed in them, soon followed by a cup of tea. When the sobs subside enough that she can speak, Ana asks, "You heard?"

With a sympathetic grimace, Gail says, "It wasn't a quiet conversation. I'm so sorry, Ana. But it'll be okay. He just needs to cool off. They're such fragile creatures, aren't they?"

Remembering one of her favorites, Ani DiFranco, Ana quotes, "But I am tired of being your savior."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing; just agreeing with you. Is ibuprofen okay for babies?"

"Uh, yes, I believe so. Headache?"

Ana bleakly nods and says, "A Christian-sized one. Would you mind?"

"Of course not. I'll be back in a sec."

Ana is clutching the cup, trying to let the heat rouse her numbed senses, when Taylor suddenly breezes in, saying, "Baby, I have to go check on Christian's car. It's…" Rocked to a standstill, cellphone in his hand, he quickly recovers enough to say, "Oh, sorry. I thought…where's Christian?"

Her voice sounding foreign, as if someone else is speaking the words, Ana monotones, "Apparently, in his car. Other than that, your guess is as good as mine."

Gail returns in time to have heard part of the conversation. Resting a hand on Taylor's forearm, she says, "It's okay. I'll explain later. Everything's fine."

Clearly confused, and more than a little worried, Taylor looks from one woman to other, as if watching a tennis match, then cautiously says, "All right. I'll be in my office."

When he's gone, Ana asks, "Are you two married, yet?" At Gail's shocked expression, she explains, "Apparently, Sophie's teddy bear has a big mouth and informed its namesake of your engagement. Congratulations."

With ability borne from years of coping with far worse shocks than this evening can provide, Gail straightens her shoulders, hands Ana the pills and briskly says, "Thank you. But never mind about that for now. Swallow those, and then you must eat your dinner." When Ana screws up her face at the idea, she's told, "From now on, every decision you make also affects your unborn child."

At this reminder, Ana meekly does as she's told, then asks, "Can I eat in here, though? I don't think I can face that huge table by myself."

"Of course, sweetheart. I've not yet eaten. Would you like me to join you?"

Moisture again blurring her vision, that the woman who cleans her underwear has more compassion than her husband, Ana gulps, "Please."

After a lovely dinner, that unfortunately might as well have been cardboard, given Ana's apparent inability to sense anything other than pain, she says, "Thank you, Gail. I feel heaps better now. I know…I _trust_ that he'll come around. It's just been a hell of a day. You've never had children?"

With only a hint of sadness, Gail says, "I'm afraid that particular blessing is not meant for me. But I'm very happy for you. I know that you and Christian will be wonderful parents…once he comes to his senses, of course."

Mortified that this beautiful person might want to be a parent and cannot, while she's apparently able to be impregnated through latex, Ana says, "God, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Gail shrugs and says, "It's okay. That's old pain. I'm content with my life. Most days I'm even happy. In my experience, that's the best we can hope for. Try to get some rest, okay? I'm sure he'll be back soon, begging your forgiveness and driving you crazy with his need to make sure you and the baby are healthy."

Miraculously, Ana finds herself believing this and laughs, saying, "Yes, that occurred to me, too. He's going to be even _more_ attentive for a while. Thanks, Gail. I'd be still sobbing on the bathroom floor if you hadn't dragged me in here."

Shrugging it off, Gail says, "No. You're strong, Ana; very strong. I just didn't want a mess to clean up." Offering a hug, she concludes, "He's a good man. He just needs to remember that fact."

Gratefully accepting the embrace, Ana draws what comfort she can from it before saying, "I know. Thanks, again. Oh, please tell only Jason for now, okay?"

"Of course. Night, Ana."

"Night."

* * *

Pausing only long enough to grab his jacket and keys, Christian storms out of the apartment, silently conjuring increasingly worse expletives as he goes. The elevator is too slow, and far too reminiscent of Ana, so that he practically runs out of it as the doors open. Mortified to see that his hands are trembling as he opens the car, he's suddenly glad that the R8 has keyless ignition, and it roars to life at the push of a button. He knows that Taylor will freak out when the automatic log tells him that the car is moving, but he doesn't give a damn.

Only when he hits the freeway does he feel able to take a proper breath, and even then it's only to yell, "Fuck!"

Why can't Ana accept the impossibility of them being parents in only nine months? Fuck; less than _eight_ months! It can't be done. They're not ready…_he's_ not ready. Only when he notices where his fight-or-flight instincts are leading him does Christian take the first exit and come to a stop, still trembling. He's twenty-eight years old. No matter what fucking happened to him as a child, he can't go running to his Mommy just because he's having problems in his marriage. Besides, he's not totally convinced that Grace, and then Carrick, wouldn't just kick his ass and rush over to support Ana, instead.

"Fuck!"

Quickly sliding his phone open, he dials and hears the recorded message, "This is Dr. John Flynn. I'm unavailable right now. If this is an emergency, please remain calm and call my trusted colleague…"

Christian doesn't bother listening to the rest, hanging up and just staring at the phone for a while, trying desperately to think who to call. But there's no one he knows who wouldn't side with Ana. Even that realization isn't enough to make him reconsider his stance, though it does plant the seed of doubt in his mind, causing him a slight twinge of regret that he was so harsh with her. She'd stoically endured his disbelief, mistrust and anger, even managing to lash him with her own gentle brand of sarcasm when he'd examined her arm. Why the fuck did he _do_ that? He trusts her. Even if he didn't, Ana would _never_ consider such a betrayal. Sure, some of the women he's been with would, and have, tried to gain his child without consent. But Ana is not like any of them. She's good and honorable and, until coming in contact with him, pure as driven snow.

"Fuck!" He really is a bastard, in every sense of the word.

One place has always been a sanctuary; it's members only, and none of the drinks are below top-shelf. Though he's not been there since meeting Ana, he's instantly recognized at the door of the gentlemen's club. "Good evening, Mr. Grey. So nice to see you again. Are you meeting anyone here?"

"Not tonight, Sol. I want to drink and be left the fuck alone."

Without batting an eyelid at his rather hostile reply, Sol takes his jacket and gestures to a nearby booth, saying, "Of course. Someone will be by in a few seconds to take your order. Enjoy your evening, sir."

As if he gives a fuck, Christian learns that his waiter's name is "Benji"; a sad name for an adult male, even a pimply-faced youth like this specimen, though he presumes it's short for "Benjamin." Thankfully, the doorman has conveyed Christian's wishes, and the kid puts a _Reserved_ plaque on the table; this particular establishment's polite way of saying, "Fuck off." Ordering a double of the best bourbon they have, Christian adds, "And a cigar."

While he waits, Christian suddenly realizes why the place is so fucking empty; he's never been here on a Monday before. Still, that suits him just fine. The cigar proves depressingly unsatisfying, despite the excellent quality; probably because it's been too many years since he smoked anything except trout on fishing trips with Carrick. Thinking of his dad causes another twinge of pain, because Christian is coming to the realization that sitting here, drink and cigar in hand, while his wife is at home, presumably crying, is not his finest hour. So he downs the bourbon and gestures for a refill, rethinking his assessment of Benji when the kid appears almost instantly, carrying another drink, and whisks the empty glass away without a word.

Unaware how often he repeats the gesture with a glass containing only ice and trace amounts of liquor, Christian knows that he's reached his limit when Benji approaches empty-handed and nervously says, "I'm sorry, Mr. Grey, but I'm not permitted to serve you another drink this evening. May I call you a cab?"

Throwing his wallet down on the table, Christian unsteadily rises to his feet as he says, "No. Settle the check and give yourself a ridiculous tip while I take a piss."

Visibly relieved that there won't be a confrontation, Benji bobs his head and reaches for the wallet as he says, "Thank you, sir."

By the time he's negotiated the urinal without soiling his shoes, Christian has forgotten all about his wallet. Thankfully, it's handed to him at the door, along with his jacket, which he'd also forgotten. As he fumbles handling either of these items, the doorman asks, "Are you sure we can't call you a cab, Mr. Grey?"

Managing to stand up straight, Christian insists, "I'm fine, Sol. Just need to take a nice, long walk…clear my head. G'night."

Clearly disbelieving, but with no power to stop a customer from doing anything once he leaves, Sol bows slightly and says, "Good night, sir. Take care."

Too drunk to drive, and not quite drunk enough to ignore that fact, Christian zips his jacket against the unseasonal biting night air and walks without a direction in mind. Lost in thought, his meandering feet eventually lead him to a familiar door. Wondering if it's truly luck, or his subconscious took over the navigating, Christian just stares at the entrance to Elena's salon, Esclava. Eventually, it filters through to his brain that there is, in fact, one person he can talk to about this – one person he's always been able to talk to – and that the light in her office is on.

He has to pound on the locked door for several seconds before he sees Elena tentatively poke her head out of the office. On seeing him, she smiles and approaches with keys in hand as she says, "Christian, what a lovely surprise. But what on earth are you doing here?"

Leaning his head against the glass, he points out, "Freezing my fucking balls off. Lemme in."

Elena does just that. As Christian stumbles through the doorway, she asks, "Have you been…" Catching a whiff of his breath, she says, "Yes, you have. Christian, you haven't been this drunk in years, certainly not on a Monday. What's wrong?"

"Ana. She and I had a huge row, and I suddenly couldn't stand to be around her. Do you have anything here? I got cut off at my club, and I've been walking since then."

"No. I'm sorry, darling. If you give me a few minutes, we can find a quiet spot for a chat, okay?"

Incredibly grateful that she's content to make the decisions, Christian meekly says, "Okay."

Of course, he recognizes the bar. There aren't many places in Seattle that Elena knows which aren't also familiar to Christian. She guides him with a gentle hand under his elbow to a secluded booth and orders a bottle of sparkling wine. Watching as she fills his glass, Christian says, "I'm gonna be sorry in the morning; mixing bourbon and champagne."

Elena laughs, somewhat harshly, and says, "I'm only guessing how much you had to drink. But I'd say you're going to be sorry, anyway."

"Probably." Suddenly lowering his head to his hands, Christian exclaims, "Fuck, what have I done? I shouldn't have walked out on her like that. She's probably devastated."

After a moment, Elena quietly asks, "Do you want to tell me what happened? I thought things were going well?"

"They were…they are. Fuck." With a groan, Christian reveals, "She wants to start a family. We've talked about it before, but…fuck, how can she look at me and think I'm father material?"

Another pause, and Elena dares, "I hate to say 'I told you so', but I did try and warn you, Christian. She's not right for you, and never will be."

Sober enough not to tolerate that, Christian sits up and says, "Elena, you _love_ to say 'I told you so', and Ana is still the best fucking thing that's ever happened to me. I just…I need…" Running a hand through his hair, he lifts his glass to her and concludes, "I need to stay drunk for a while."

Smart enough to know when to back off, Elena delicately touches her glass to his and says, "Santé, darling."

With Christian militant and Elena wary, they stick to safe subjects for a while; work, family, local news. They're on the second bottle when Christian says, "I'm sorry, Elena, about my birthday party. But you were way out of line. You don't get to decide who I see anymore."

Anger flares in her eyes, though his currently aren't functioning well enough to see it, and Elena says, "It wasn't pleasant. But I'm impressed with how your little lady stood up for herself. You know that I've always admired such spirit. I can certainly see the attraction." With a weighty shrug, as if the worries of the world are resting on her shoulders, she continues, "Still, I'm sorry to lose your mother as a friend. As ever, living up to her name, she's steadfastly refused to tell anyone why we're no longer speaking. But there's been talk, and I've lost other…acquaintances, because of it. Do you think she'd ever forgive me?"

As if the wine is actually truth serum, Christian doesn't hesitate to promise, "Not in a million years."

Elena again laughs – prompting Christian to wonder if that sound has always been this annoying – and says, "Well, I asked. Please tell me that you, at least, forgive me? You know it was done with your best interests at heart."

Unconcerned, as they both know the truth, Christian takes another swallow of wine and says, "Now, that's just not fucking true is it? Putting aside the fact that what you did was a crime, if you'd really wanted to use that method to help me, you'd have subbed from the start."

"Christian, for fuck's sake, keep your voice down."

Long ago becoming immune to that commanding tone of voice, Christian merely casts his bleary-eyed gaze over the almost empty room and asks, "Why?" Despite this, he does in fact comply, lowering his voice to accuse, "I've always been a dominant personality. But then you knew that, didn't you? It's why you had to seduce me; to dominate me. You get some sort of twisted pleasure from forcing people to behave against their nature…probably because you had no control in your marriage. Linc's money gave him all the power. When things started to go south all you could do was latch onto the nearest basket case and mold him into the perfect plaything."

Actually batting her eyelids at him, prompting a shake of his head and a sardonic grin, Elena purrs, "You can't accept that you were and are the most beautiful man I've ever met?"

Christian snorts his derision and says, "I'm not fifteen anymore, Elena, so save your flattery for your latest boy toy. How is Isaac, anyway?"

He knows from her manner before he hears the words, "It's not going well. He…why must they always cling? He's currently pouting because I've been working late most nights."

Suddenly realizing that this whole conversation may have been a really bad idea, Christian actually feels a little nauseous as he explains what most people are born knowing, "He's probably under the misconception that you have genuine feelings for him."

"I do, darling."

"Human feelings, Elena; love, affection, empathy, that sort of thing."

Immediately back to wary, Elena visibly shrinks from him as she asks, "When did you become cruel?"

As if they're discussing the weather, Christian shrugs and says, "No idea. But I'm guessing it was soon after I met you."

Sickened further by the sudden flare of desire in her eyes at his callousness, Christian is filling his glass yet again when her hand alights on his inner thigh and she purrs, "Darling, it was always good between us, and could be again…Sir."

Resisting the urge to touch her hand, for fear he'll cause her real harm, Christian's sudden and exigent need for action snaps the stem of the champagne flute, adding a nice sound effect for his words when he growls, "Move your fucking hand or I'll break your fucking arm." Elena snaps her hand back, as if from a viper's pit, and is leaning away from him, somehow knowing that she's gone too far this time, when he continues, "Do you honestly think that I'd find a shriveled up excuse for a human being attractive, when I have Anastasia waiting at home for me? I love her, Elena. I may have fancied that I loved you, when I was too young and stupid to understand how you were manipulating me. But that perversion of love was nothing compared to what I feel for my wife." His face twisted with disgust and rage, he concludes, "You're pathetic."

Literally trembling with fury, Elena hisses, "I don't have to take this."

Swilling what's left in the remains of his glass and setting it on the table, Christian doesn't even look at her to say, "No, you don't." Huffing her way out of the booth, surprisingly agilely, making him realize that she had gone so far as to only pretend she was drinking a lot, she's just about to her feet when Christian says, "Oh, Elena?" When she turns her shrewish glare on him, he gently commands, "You'll sell me your shares in GEH. I'll have the papers delivered to you tomorrow."

It's the only hold she still has over him, since he cut all other business ties, gifting her his share of Esclava, and she's held fast against that final gesture, despite Christian offering her better than market price for them. So Elena straightens her spine and quotes, "Not in a million years."

From memory, Christian rattles off every financier to whom she owes money, even the shady ones, and then says, "Have you bothered to check who these businesses currently belong to?" On seeing the fear enter her eyes, as comprehension finally sinks in, he silkily asks, "Do you know what it would take for me to bankrupt you?" Removing his phone from his pocket and holding it out with his thumb poised over the keys, he concludes, "I'll give you a clue; I could literally do it with my little finger, if necessary."

Not quite stupid enough to test his resolve, given that she's partly cultivated that trait in him, Elena offers a terse nod and demands, "At the elevated price."

Smiling, as if they're once again friends, except that it doesn't quite reach his eyes, Christian says, "Of course. I'm not actually cruel, despite your best efforts. You'll remember this conversation if you ever start nurturing some perverse yearning for revenge against Ana, or anyone else in my family?"

"It seems that I have little choice."

"No, you fucking don't. But, just in case, remember that there are worse things than bankruptcy. I still have a Polaroid of you and I that would see you put in prison for a _very_ long time." He can see that he has her now; there's no fight left in her, and he doesn't even look at her to say, "Goodbye, Elena."

She hovers for a second, no doubt trying to come up with the perfect last word. Strangely, she finds it and says only "Goodbye," before leaving him alone with his regrets.

* * *

Where credit's due: Ani DiFranco, for "Origami".


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Christian tries to escape from reality for a little while longer, ordering another bourbon. But every sip somehow becomes a reminder that he has _beyond_ fucked up this time, so he knows that it's time to head home and beg Ana's forgiveness. Leaving too much money on the table, he staggers out into the accusing night and hails a cab to take him back to his car, planning to sleep on the rear seat until he's sober enough to get behind the wheel. On seeing that someone is in the driver's seat, his fists clench in rage, even as some part of his brain tries to calm him. Approaching, he recognizes Taylor. Of course; anyone else would have triggered the alarm. Without a word, Christian enters and inelegantly slumps into the passenger seat. After a few seconds, Taylor tersely commands, "Belt."

Christian tries, but it proves challenging enough that Taylor completes the task. They've been underway for a few seconds when Christian finds the courage to say, "I fucked up, didn't I?"

Taylor jaw clenches and then he asks, "Yes, sir, you did. Don't you want to know how your _pregnant_ wife is coping in your absence?"

Christian flinches under the power of the word "pregnant" as a weapon. But, having decided to face the music, says only, "Go ahead."

"Gail found her, collapsed and sobbing, on those pompous fucking tiles in your bathroom. She had a headache, bad enough to beg for help with it, and had to be blackmailed with the health of her baby just so she'd eat something. That's all I can tell you, because Gail ordered me to find you and drag your sorry ass back home, though I honestly think Ana is better off without you, at least until you sort your shit out. For fuck's sake, you're going to be a _father_. You can't pull this sort of shit anymore."

"Pull over."

Having guessed why, from the desperation in his voice, Taylor immediately complies and Christian falls out of the car onto his knees. After voiding the suddenly hostile contents of his stomach, he stands and faces Taylor – ever the professional, still following and watching over him – to say, "Hit me."

"What?"

"Hit me. I know you want to; no consequences."

His control slipping just a little, Taylor goes so far as to grab the front of Christian's jacket. But the absolute lack of resistance stays his hand and he drops his fist, saying, "Just get in the fucking car. If you still want me to hit you when you're sober, I'll be more than happy to oblige. For fuck's sake, man, you're an adult; you need to start finding adult solutions to your problems."

Christian groans and says, "I know. Of course, you're right. I just don't fucking know how."

"The same way any of us do; practice. You must have known running off and getting pissed wouldn't work for very long. Where the fuck were you, anyway? Sol says you went for a walk? But that was four fucking hours ago."

Wincing, at the imminent tirade, Christian bleakly confesses, "I ended up at Esclava."

He doesn't even see the blow. But, drunk as he is, he still feels it, and welcome pain explodes across his face. The car stops him from ending up on his knees again. He's half sprawled on the hood, looking up into the eyes of a _very_ angry man who demands, "Did you fuck her?"

The pain of that accusation hurts more than the punch. But Christian knows full well he deserves both, and says, "No. Even if I didn't find her repulsive, I wouldn't do that to Ana…_couldn't_ do that to Ana. I know it was fucked up, but I couldn't think of anyone else to talk to."

Backing off a little, Taylor bitterly accuses, "Couldn't think of anyone else who wouldn't kick your ass, you mean."

"Yes." Fathoming, for a moment, the sudden additional pain in his heart, Christian asks, "Why do I feel like I should apologize to you?"

That gives Taylor something to think about. After a few seconds, he says, "Probably because I've always admired you. But, right now, I'm not sure I even want to know you."

Christian's winces and ducks his head in apology; his voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, "Do you think Ana feels that way about now?"

Taylor's rage remains intact for a moment longer, then his expression softens and he says, "No, I don't. For some unfathomable reason, Ana loves you, and she's stronger than any of us. She's probably at home worrying about you, despite the fact that you don't deserve such consideration. Get in the fucking car."

* * *

Having been alerted that Christian is "safe and relatively sound", Ana is waiting in pajamas and robe when the elevator doors open. The ride up clearly having caused some stability issues, a wobbly Christian is supported by Taylor's iron grip around one bicep. "Where do you want him?"

Her anger evaporating at Christian's pathetic appearance – disheveled clothing, tousled hair, bloodshot eyes and a darkening bruise on one cheek – Ana is grateful that she won't have to approach; for fear that her resolve will crumble. "Bedroom, please."

"I'm sorry, baby."

Taking a deep breath, so she won't scream, Ana says, "No doubt. And it looks like you'll be even sorrier in the morning. But you don't get to call me 'baby' tonight."

Flinching at the venom in her voice, Christian says, "Okay."

Stepping aside, to let the men past, Ana says, "It wasn't a question."

Wondering if she'll be able to maintain this charade, when all she wants to do is fall into Christian's arms now that he's home, Ana knows that she's on the right track when Taylor gives her a surreptitious thumbs-up as he walks by, guiding his boss along the corridor.

Between the two of them, they manage to remove Christian's jacket and shoes. Recoiling, Ana says, "God, Christian, you reek. Have you been smoking?"

"Mmm, hmm…cigar; jus' one. Took it up at Harvard, so they wouldn't…."

Looking to Taylor for the answer, who merely shrugs, Ana prompts, "Wouldn't what?"

Falling backwards onto the bed, his feet still on the floor, Christian covers his face with one arm as he says, "Know what a freak I am." Seconds later, he's softly snoring

Stricken by a sudden need to wake Christian and beg forgiveness for _his_ crimes, Ana looks in appeal to Taylor, who says, "Stay strong. You're doing great. Need anything else?"

"No, thank you. I can take it from here."

Studying her for a moment, Taylor observes, "You've already forgiven him."

"Yes. Don't worry. I fully intend to give him hell for a while. But I can't stay angry over this. I knew he wouldn't be able to handle our news. But it's not as if I could keep it from him forever."

"But…how? Gail told me what he said. Aren't you furious?"

Offering a weak smile, marveling that she has that much in her, Ana says, "It's even worse than that. He didn't come right out and say it, but actually thought for a second that I might have done this on purpose."

"Stupid fucker. I honestly thought he was past this. He's been doing so great. And you saw him with Sophie. It made me hope…" Trailing off, Taylor shakes his head.

Taking pity on him, Ana motions that he should follow her. Once they're in the hallway, she quietly says, "What I'm about to tell you is known only to myself and John Flynn." She doesn't ask for his discretion, knowing that she already has it. At his nod of understanding, Ana continues, "The reason I knew Christian wouldn't be able to handle this is because, when he thinks 'parents', his subconscious conjures up an image of the man who abused him and the woman who permitted it. No matter what good Grace and Carrick have done, in his mind, that original atrocity of family life is what's real for him."

Nodding, Taylor says, "He's worried that he'll repeat that pattern."

"More than that, he's being doing so for several years." At Taylor's obvious confusion, Ana says, "I'm surprised that you haven't worked it out, given how long you've known him. Are you aware of the work he's been doing with Flynn most recently?"

"Uh, huh; reliving memories until he no longer has a visceral reaction to the remembered trauma. Some of my friends – former soldiers – have benefited from the technique."

"I'm glad he's discussing it with you. John says that every time Christian talks about it aids his recovery, but there're still so few people he can trust with the information." After a deep, bolstering sigh, Ana says, "The first memory was also his first beating. I didn't realize until later why it bothered me so much…I mean, it bothered me, but…anyway. Christian identifies with the man who beat him and his mother."

"Identifies with? Are you telling me that Christian somehow…what, that sick fucker has become part of his identity?"

Her voice and expression appropriately grim, Ana reveals, "Apparently, it's fairly common in cases of domestic violence. For several different reasons, he feels…felt, a need to copy the behavior of the man would beat Christian's mother while she cowered on her knees, then have sex with her…rape her, basically. And this horror, he was forced to watch, or be beaten yet again. His innocent eyes saw it all."

Taylor glances in at the still soundly sleeping Christian and says, "Fuck, so when he...all those women. I thought it was something to do with rage at his mother."

"So does Christian. He has no idea this is lurking in his subconscious. But I knew it after that first memory, and John confirmed it when I called him the next day. He'd suspected, and was certain after hearing an account of the beating; all this time, Christian has been continually mimicking behavior he learned from the first father figure he knew. In that moment, with each and every submissive, he essentially _was_ the man who beat him."

Clearly still struggling with the concept, Taylor says, "So, when Christian contemplates being a father…?"

Ana nods that he's got it, and says, "His brain tells him that he'll do so with extreme violence. It feels like an unalterable truth for him. The fact that his conscious mind knows otherwise means nothing when that fear surfaces." Smiling in at her drunk, tortured, yet ultimately decent husband, she smiles and concludes, "His inherent gentleness and goodness means that the very idea of parenthood has become abhorrent to him, even as he secretly longs for the chance to right the wrongs done to him before he was old enough to stop them from becoming part of who he is."

"Fuck."

Ana manages a weak laugh and says, "Well said. Kind of makes his relationship with all those women seem even more creepy, doesn't it?"

"It does." Staring at Christian for a few seconds, Taylor asks, "But he's getting better?"

Finally with something to really smile about, Ana says, "All the time." Rubbing her belly in an unconscious gesture of affection towards her unborn child, she continues, "If everything had gone according to plan, Christian would have been ready to become a father by the time I fell pregnant."

Taylor smiles his love for her and says, "You're going to be a wonderful mother." Glancing at Christian, he adds, "And that sorry excuse for a man will become an adequate father, if I have to slap it into him."

"Did you hit him?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Jaw clenching in distress, Taylor finally says, "Because he deserved it. Ma'am, please promise me you won't let him get away with this?"

Ana laughs and says, "_Ma'am_? Still, Jason?"

Unapologetic, Taylor says, "Since I could speak, I've been taught that 'ma'am' and 'sir' are a sign of respect, and you deserve it."

Her eyes misting with grateful tears, Ana says, "Okay; 'ma'am' it is, thank you. I promise. The fact that I want to go in there, curl up in his arms and forget this evening ever happened doesn't alter the fact that panic is not reason enough for him to treat me like that. Any suggestions? I'm still relatively new to this…the whole errant husband thing."

Taylor chuckles and says, "Don't worry, Ana, women are born knowing how to punish a man. You'll do fine." After only a moment's hesitation, he leans over to plant a chaste kiss on her cheek, and says, "Congratulations, Mrs. Grey. Get some sleep, okay?"

Struggling to maintain her composure, Ana can only manage a nod in reply, though she recovers enough to say "Thank you, sir," as he leaves. Glancing back, to show that he's understood, Taylor waves a hand and leaves her to it.

Taking another deep breath, Ana approaches Christian and looks down at him. This time consciously rubbing her belly, she whispers, "Well, Blip, that's your Daddy. I know; not very inspiring at the moment. But it'll get better, I promise."

Lifting his legs, which prove surprisingly heavy, Ana swings them onto the bed so he'll be more comfortable. She's still shuffling his unhelpful form when he mutters, "I'm sorry."

Assuming he's talking in his sleep, Ana glances at Christian to see that he's actually awake…just. Hardening her will, she says, "As you should be."

Even drunk, his speed is phenomenal, and she's on the bed beside him, barely aware how it happened. About to protest, she's silenced when he rests a cheek on her abdomen and whispers, "And I'm sorry to you, too."

Clenching her fists, so she won't caress his hair, Ana is on the verge of weeping when Christian suddenly becomes heavier and starts snoring again. Bringing a hand to her mouth, in order to suppress a hysterical giggle, Ana carefully extricates herself from his embrace. He still doesn't look very comfortable, but she's not brave enough to risk waking him again. Fetching a spare quilt, she's about to cover him when she sees that his wallet and phone are still in his pockets. Carefully as possible, vigilant for signs of wakefulness, she removes them and nearly drops the phone when it suddenly beeps at her. The sound making Christian stir a little, Ana's gaze flies to him, as she prays that he doesn't again wake. So she misses the first part of the message preview. But she sees who it's from, and is in time to read the words "…a wonderful father," scroll across the top of the screen.

When Ana recovers from the shock, it's to see that she's been standing there for a full minute, warring with the need to read the entire message and her desire to trust Christian, despite his monumental failure to earn it tonight. Trust wins. But this fresh betrayal demands an answer. Shutting his phone down, so it cannot wake him, Ana retrieves her cell and sends him the message, "Why is that BITCH texting you at 2 in the morning?" Confident that he'll understand how angry she is, given her expressed aversion to that particular insult, Ana nods her satisfaction and stows the phone in a pocket of her robe.

Fury lending her strength, she quickly gathers everything she'll need for the morning. Arms full, she heads upstairs to the spare room, grateful that Gail has kept it ready for surprise guests. Dumping everything on an armchair, she locks the door and gets into bed, still trembling with rage. It's a long time before she finally falls asleep, so she has time to come up with a plan: project "Educate Christian Grey" will begin first thing in the morning.

* * *

Author's note: I've a few ideas for Ana's project. But, as you're all clearly _very_ upset with Christian, I'll also take the first few suggestions. [Anyone know why this interactive process is against the rules? Or have I misunderstood them yet again?] Do remember that "castration" will ensure that Phoebe is never born, and will seriously mess with my timeline, given that I've already written her existence in "On the Rocks";-)


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

When Ana wakes, it's to confusion. In the ensuing moments, it all comes flooding back; the positive pregnancy test, Christian's reaction and flight from her presence, his inebriated and apologetic return, the text from Elena, and Ana's subsequent resolution to commence Christian's re-education on the correct way to treat his pregnant wife. So she knows why the nausea is rising, just as it's done for the past few days, but she hadn't thought anything of it. And she realizes why Sade is singing, "Your kisses ring, round and round and round my head."

_Step 1: Change ring tone to "I'm an Asshole" by Dennis Leary._

"Yes?"

"Thank God. Baby, are you okay? Where are you?"

"Guest room."

There's a pause of several seconds. "For how long?"

"Until I can stand the idea of sharing a bed with you."

Another pause and Christian says, "Withholding sex? That's your plan to punish me?"

Tired and sick, her thoughts hampered by yet another or the same headache, Ana can't find the strength to explain things to him right now and wearily utters, "If you say so."

His voice rising, Christian demands, "What the fuck sort of answer is that?"

"Christian, I have a headache. If you're going to shout at me, I'll hang up."

Softer and gentler, Christian says, "I'm sorry, baby. I just…when I woke up and you weren't here, I…."

He doesn't need to finish. "Christian, I'm not going anywhere. If you being an asshole were grounds for me leaving, I'd have done so long ago."

He manages a weak laugh and asks, "Yeah, I guess so. Can I come up there and start apologizing?"

"We'll talk later. Right now, I have to..." _Uh, oh._

_Step 2. Learn and obtain the cure for morning sickness…today!_

Dropping the phone on the bed, Ana just makes it to the toilet bowl before losing the contents of her stomach. She's dimly aware of a pounding, soon realizing that it's Christian seeking entry to the bedroom. She tries to tell him everything is okay, but another wave of nausea grips her. Finally able to stand, she's returning to reassure Christian when the door explodes inwards, soon followed by her frantic husband, looking pretty much the same as when she put him to bed…scruffier, if anything; the bruise on his cheek stark against pale flesh. His pathetic appearance and woebegone expression immediately start eroding her resolve, so she focusses on the project.

_Step 3. Replace bedroom door._

Holding up a hand to halt his progress, she says, "I'm fine; just morning sickness."

Sensing where the boundary is, Christian halts five feet from her and appears pained when he insists, "You're not fine. You look like shit." At her glare, he says, "You know what I mean; you're all pale and sweaty."

"Yeah, well, you're hardly GQ cover material this morning, either. Please respect my wishes and leave me alone. I have to get ready for work."

Immediately wary, Christian asks, "You're really okay?"

"Yes."

"And you'll give me a chance to explain after work?"

"That depends; did you mean it when you said that I'm on my own?"

Having the decency to look genuinely ashamed, Christian groans and says, "No. I've no idea why I said that, or behaved the way I did. You know that I can't live without you. Whatever you decide, I'm with you…you _and_ the baby."

Worried that he can somehow hear the grateful whimper deep within her, Ana summons reserves of strength she wasn't even aware of to say, "I'll see you tonight."

When Christian hesitates, she knows that he's deciding whether or not to comply, and she holds her breath, certain that she won't be able to resist him if he just steps forward and wraps his arms around her. Every good thought she's ever had about him is vindicated when he eventually inclines his head and says, "Thank you, Anastasia." Picking up a few shards of wood that flew off the door when he kicked it in, he adds "Uh, this will be fixed by the time you get home," before shutting it as best he can and leaving her alone.

She's showered and dressed when there's a knock at the door. Worried that it's Christian again, she tentatively says, "Yes?"

"Taylor, ma'am. Everything all right?"

Wondering what it must look like from his side, Ana quickly crosses to open the door and say, "Yes, I'm fine. I had a bout of morning sickness, and Christian thought I was in real trouble."

Taylor looks relieved and says, "Jen always kept crackers by the bed. Set your alarm a few minutes early and eat them before getting up in the morning. You're staying here for a while?"

Embarrassed that Taylor and Gail will be privy to her ongoing marital dramas, Ana blushes a little as she says, "Yes."

As if this is a completely normal conversation, Taylor says, "I'll let Gail know. She'll put some crackers on your nightstand. Some women swear by ginger, but I don't know anyone that actually worked for…Ana, are you okay?"

Realizing that her bottom lip is actually quivering, Ana swallows back her grief and says, "It's just…you and Gail have been kinder than…."

Unable to say another word, for fear that she'll dissolve into weeping and not stop, Ana stands mute as Taylor says, "Hey, he'll come around." Gesturing to the broken lock on the door, he adds, "He clearly still cares for you. And we both know he's a good man. He just needs to believe it. Would you like me to rearrange things so that I accompany you today?"

"Oh, no, thank you. I'll be fine. I like knowing that you're keeping Christian safe."

"All right, ma'am. As you're feeling a little fragile, may I suggest oatmeal for breakfast?"

"Uh, yes. That's fine."

"I'll let Gail know. Anything else I can do for you?"

Nervous about upsetting him, when he's been so good to her, Ana hesitates before asking, "Did you hit him because he went to Elena?"

Taylor's jaw clenches and unclenches a few times before he says, "Yes. But I don't think he had sex with her."

Smiling at his obtuseness, Ana says, "So he only insulted and abandoned me to spend the evening chatting with his former mistress rather than face the fact that he's about to become a father?"

His expression grim, Taylor says, "You're right. It would have been better if he'd just fucked her. I'm sorry, Ana. Want me to hit him again?"

Somehow, it's enough to make her laugh. But then Ana sobers and says, "It wouldn't do any good. He hates himself enough to enjoy it. Just…look after him, okay? He doesn't understand why he does crappy stuff like this and he'll be torturing himself today. I'm coming up with a plan to get him back on track, but I need to discuss it with John Flynn first." With a sad smile at the enormity of her task, she adds, "We have to push him through years of therapy in a little under eight months. Does life ever go according to plan?"

Taylor laughs and says, "Not _my_ life. But it's working out okay so far." Then shaking his head a little, he adds, "I think you're being incredible about this; the lucky bastard doesn't deserve you."

Finally feeling strong enough to face her day, Ana says, "He does. He just doesn't know it yet. I'll be downstairs soon."

Accepting the dismissal, Taylor nods once and says "Ma'am," before leaving.

* * *

Stomping down the stairs, his head pounding and his heart aching, Christian is silently repeating the litany "Mother-fucking, son-of-a-harlot bastard," as he gets ready for work, noticing that it provides a nice rhythm for his movements. Staring at his unworthy-of-GQ reflection, he's gripped by a sudden and powerful need to destroy that image. Eventually bringing himself under control, he opens Ana's drawer, with trembling hands, to borrow some concealer for the bruise. On seeing that it's practically empty, he realizes that she must have taken even her makeup to the guest room, and that she must have done so last night. Considering the early morning text from her, he can guess the catalyst for such desperation, and slams the drawer shut, whirling away from the mirror before he feeds his starving rage with blood, pain and a shattering of glass.

On entering the kitchen, he's met by a stony-faced Gail, and decides to get any awkwardness out of the way, asking, "You want to hit me, too?"

Gail hesitates for a second, whether she's genuinely considering punching him or just deciding how much to say, he neither knows nor cares. "Yes, sir. But Mrs. Grey wouldn't approve. I presume you have a hangover?"

Relieved that her nurturing side is still active, Christian sighs and says, "Like a son-of-a-bitch; no breakfast for me, thanks. Ana has morning sickness. What can we do for that?"

"It's being taken care of, sir."

"Thank you. And thank you, for last night. I understand that you helped Ana after I…when I…. Fuck! You know what I'm trying to say."

"After you demanded that she have an abortion, and then told her that she would have to raise the child alone when she refused? Yes, sir. I helped her."

Her rage evident in the last few words, Christian again gives her the chance, "Sure you don't want to hit me?"

Smiling evilly, Gail says, "I'm afraid it's much worse than that, sir." Quickly making an espresso – the sound of the machine grinding into Christian's brain – and adding to the breakfast tray she prepared earlier, she puts it before him and reveals, "Mrs. Grey's instructions this morning are that we're to look after you."

Staring at the coffee, oatmeal, fruit smoothie, water and two aspirin, Christian then gratefully gulps down the coffee – the scalding liquid providing instant relief – and drops the aspirin in the water as he says, "Thanks. But I can't eat anything."

"Would you have me disappointment Mrs. Grey, sir?" Thinking that he'd rather she hit him, Christian is wavering when Gail adds, "Apart from tea instead of coffee and Tylenol instead of aspirin, this tray is identical to hers. Uh, I'm sorry, sir, but last night I gave her ibuprofen for the headache."

The world suddenly closing in on him, a terrified Christian asks, "Well, how bad _is_ that?"

Still looking guilty, Gail says, "Not very bad, I think; at least at that dose. But it's not recommended. By tonight, I'll know how best to care for Mrs. Grey. Again, I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know. I've experience with children, but not a woman with child."

Dismayed that Gail should feel any guilt over last night, when _he's_ the fuck-up, Christian waves away her apology, saying, "I don't see how the fuck any of this can be your fault." Staring at the offending food, he takes a deep breath and adds, "Okay, I'll eat. But this had better work."

"Yes, sir. Welcome back, sir."

At first confused, Christian then realizes that she's speaking not of his presence, but his brusque manner. Holding up the fizzy, liquid remedy in toast to her, he says, "Cheers." After downing the glass, which blessedly appears content to stay in his stomach, he drags the oatmeal closer as he asks, "How often does Ana get headaches?"

"Uh, I don't know, sir. But I've regularly had to stock up on over-the-counter pain relievers since she moved in. It's not an alarming amount, or I would have mentioned it. But…I guess it's possible that Mrs. Grey also buys some during the day. Did I do something wrong?"

Christian offers a weak smile and says, "I sincerely doubt you ever have. No, it's Ana; for some reason she has the notion that suffering in silence is a virtue. I noticed that she often wakes up with a headache, but assumed that they'd stopped. Turns out she just stopped mentioning them, so as not to worry me. For obvious reasons, she's not too keen on me right now. I'll try and persuade her to see a doctor. If I don't succeed, would you…I know you've already done a lot, but she looks up to you..."

Ana's sudden appearance at the door stops him. Gail goes so far as to offer a reassuring pat on his hand when she assures, "Yes, sir." To Ana, she brightly says, "Good morning, ma'am. Feeling any better?"

Warily eyeing Christian, Ana says, "A little, thank you." Handing over the reams of paper Dr. Greene gave her yesterday, she adds, "Would you please print out a few copies of these, and get one to me before I leave for work? I'm running late. Keep one for yourself; it's all you'll need to know about my diet, etcetera. And give one to Mr. Grey."

Wincing at the formal title, Christian asks, "Would you prefer that I come back later?"

Ana shrugs and says, "It's your kitchen."

As if the exchange hasn't taken place, Gail says, "Of course, Mrs. Grey. Are you able to stomach a light breakfast?"

With a grimace, Ana says, "I'm willing to attempt it, thank you. Though I suspect that whether or not it stays down isn't up to me." Sitting down at the counter, but a seat away from Christian, she asks him, "Are you prepared to see John today and tell him everything that's happened?"

Surprised that she'd think otherwise, he says, "Uh, of course. I tried to talk to him last night, but he wouldn't answer his fucking phone."

_Step 4. Command respect._

"Unless I tell you otherwise, I'd rather you didn't use such language when speaking with me." At his open-mouthed shock, Ana says, "I know you can do it, because you offer your mother such courtesy."

"Uh, okay…yes, ma'am. Are we still waiting until tonight before we discuss my abominable behavior?"

Hoping that her profound relief at his cooperation isn't evident, Ana clips, "Yes. And, thank you."

Ana almost laughs then, because only she sees Gail's mighty wink as the most perfect housekeeper in all the world prepares another breakfast tray. Ana smiles again on seeing that it's a copy of Christian's. She catches his eye, only to see that he's also not quite managing to conceal his mirth. Sitting almost next to each other, silently eating their cloned meals, Ana finally dares to hope that they're going to be okay.

Wondering if he lingers on purpose, Ana finishes first. After thanking Gail, she's leaving when Christian says, "Uh, Ana?"

Immediately back to afraid, she nevertheless turns to him and wills firmness into her voice when she says, "Yes?"

"If I set up an appointment with a specialist, would you please consent to see someone about these headaches?" His tension evident in every line of his body, Ana knows that this isn't something he'll easily be able to put aside, despite the fact that he's almost certainly overreacting yet again.

_Step 5. Remember the teachings of the Dalai Lama and be kind whenever possible._

"Yes, Christian. You'll contact Hannah and add it to my schedule?"

Ana can almost see the relief wash over him, as if it's something tangible, and he says, "Yes. Thank you. Please remember to eat lunch?"

His tender concern is an assault on the integrity of her project, because Ana is once again filled with an overwhelming and irrational need to just apologize for anything she's done since finding out about the pregnancy. She knows, like she knows that the sun will rise tomorrow, that Christian would, at a word from her, gladly rewind to where they were only twenty-four hours ago; sneaking a quickie before work and laughing as they did so. But that would solve nothing; she'd still have to eventually face the fact that he's not ready to be a father.

_Step 6…actually, make this Prime Directive. Remember what's at stake and HOLD FAST._

Cool as the proverbial cucumber, Ana asks, "Do you feel that you still have the right to tell me what to do?"

With a quiet smile, as if he can see right through her calm façade to the whimpering, needy girl within, Christian says, "No, ma'am. I _asked_, out of concern for your health and that of your unborn child."

At his words, Ana knows that they still have a long way to go. Drowning in sorrow, she manages to keep her head above water long enough to keep her voice from cracking when she says, "I'll remember. See you tonight."

Mystified by her sudden mood change, when she'd seemed almost at ease in his presence only moments ago, Christian is wholly unprepared for the resounding smack to the back of his head, excruciatingly amplifying the pain already there. Rounding on Gail, one hand clutching the site of her attack, he angrily demands, "What the fuck, Gail? I thought you weren't going to hit me? What was that for?"

Everything about her expressing rage, Gail storms out with the pre-natal guidelines as she says, "You're a smart guy, _sir_. You'll figure it out."

She hasn't even reached Taylor's office, to photocopy those pages for Ana, before Christian texts her, "Because I said "your unborn child" not "our unborn child"?"

Smiling that he's at least considering what effect his words have on Ana, Gail doesn't hesitate to reply, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you. And don't EVER hit me again!"

Her smile widening, Gail doesn't bother replying to this one.

* * *

On seeing that it's John Flynn calling, Ana's heart beats a little faster, because she knows he's calling about Christian. "Hi, John. How'd it go?"

"Surprisingly well, actually. I was expecting either homicidal or suicidal, but he was…well, I've known Christian for over a decade and he's never before been so amenable. I'm pretty sure I could persuade him to try electric shock therapy, if you'd like?"

Ana manages a small laugh and says, "Thanks, anyway. But I'm not quite that cruel."

"It's actually not too bad nowadays; not at all what you're imagining. Sadly, wouldn't do an ounce of good in this case, other than to make me feel better. I'm so sorry you had to endure that, Ana. Did you see Madeline?"

"Not necessary. I understand, better than Christian does, why he behaved like that. He can only have seen this news as an attack, and it seemed, at least to his subconscious – that scared little boy inside him – that I was the attacker. Do you think…is there any chance?"

"I do; an excellent chance, in fact. He was predictably angry at our news, and the fact that we'd concealed it from him. But, like I said, he's pretty much ready to accept anything I say. I imagine he'll be pondering the implications all day. And I'm as certain as it gets in my profession that he'll cooperate with you tonight. He still feels like shit, but is beginning to glimpse why he acted apparently out of character. Your instincts have served you well yet again; I can't imagine how much damage would have been done if you'd left him."

Relieved beyond her ability to express it, that she's doing the right thing, when everything she does feels like a violation of the trust she has…had, with Christian and an aberration of her own nature, Ana sighs deeply and says, "Well, for a start, I can't even imagine life without him. Plus, when he got home last night, he was barely coherent; other than to apologize a few times, the only words he spoke were to reinforce his shockingly skewed self-image. What's the point of punishing someone who could only see it as reinforcement of the lie that they're a monster who deserves every bad thing that's ever happened to them?"

"Seriously, Ana, you could hang out your shingle today and do a better job than some of my colleagues."

Ana smiles at the compliment and says, "Except that I only know Christian. Most people are a mystery to me, including myself. Thank you, though."

"No problem. Do you want me there tonight, when you outline your plan?"

"No, thank you. I'm not going to break down; our baby's future hangs in the balance here. I know it probably sounds crazy, given his initial reaction, but I still trust Christian to do the right thing. I just…why did he go to _her_? I can understand and forgive everything except that."

"Christian said that he was too drunk to drive, so started walking, without a direction in mind. Apparently, when he looked up, he was outside her place of business; miles from where he'd started. I'm not excusing it. He still made the conscious choice to talk to her. But I _do_ believe him."

"That scared little boy sought her out; kind of makes sense, I guess. Oh, did you keep that bit of paper with my conditions for leaving him?"

"I did. You want it?"

"Please. Can you courier it to the apartment? I'll leave word at the desk that I'm expecting something from you."

"Christian is in my recovery room…presumably putting holes in the walls. Want me to give it to him?"

"I thought you said he's okay?"

Ana can hear the smile when John says, "You've met Christian Grey, right? Holes in walls is a tame reaction to the news that he often _is_ the man who abused him."

Worried as she is, Ana manages a laugh and says, "I see what you mean. It won't matter that he knows you're talking to me?"

"Not at all. I made it very clear that you and I are cooperating. He needs that kind of reassurance, and every reinforcement helps."

"Okay. Uh, please add something like 'If you ever meet with that woman again, I will leave you,' then show it to him. What do you think?"

"Good, but lacks punch, I think. Of course, it's up to you."

Remembering her 2am text, Ana says, "Add 'bitch' in capital letters. He knows that I can't abide that word."

"I think that should make things _very_ clear. I'll do that right now. I'm curious; why that word?"

"Uh, can't remember, except that it's also used to describe female dogs. I'm not a fan of 'stupid' as a label, either."

"Then I hope Christian didn't go that far last night?"

"I honestly can't remember. I pretty much went into shock when he ripped the…can we wrap this up before I start crying again? I'm at work."

His voice kind, John says, "Of course, though you know that Madeline or I are available if you need to talk. Any questions?"

"Uh, no. Thank you. And thanks for seeing him on such short notice."

"No problem. I'm sorry that I couldn't take his call last night."

"That's all right, John. He could have called your colleague, but he didn't."

"I'm not sure he could, actually."

"I guess not, given his trust issues. Am I doing the right thing? If I'm putting the baby or Christian at risk by choosing this course, I…please tell me I'm not enduring this for nothing."

After several seconds, long enough to make Ana nervous, he says, "I asked Christian if he believes that he deserves a third chance with you."

"Wow, you're even tougher on him than I am."

"I hope so; he pays me to be. Christian thought about it for a while and then said, 'I'd say _no_, except for Ana's special gift.' Know what he was talking about?"

"I've no idea; clumsiness?"

John laughs and says, "Oh, Ana, if I thought you were serious…Christian says that your special gift is to see the good in people."

Finally, there it is, that too-much-love ache in her chest, and she's hugging herself as she asks, "He said that?"

More soft laughter and John says, "He did."

"Thanks, John. I'll be okay, now."

"I haven't yet made my point."

"Oh, sorry. Go ahead."

"I was thrilled that he comprehends that about you, but asked how that made _him_ worthy." Ana is actually holding her breath, praying that she's guessed correctly. She only releases her breath when John quotes, "Because she loves me, so I _know_ that I'm a good man."

* * *

Where credit's due: "Prime Directive"? I think Ana is a closet Trekkie;-) "HOLD FAST" is a traditional tattoo for sailors (on knuckles); several interpretations abound online, if you're curious, but I've always assumed it simply means "Don't give up."


	17. Chapter 17

Author's note: Recent response has been a little overwhelming, thank you. With so many comments (and a desire to reply to all of them) I may have responded twice to some and missed others. Please forgive. Thank you, for reading and/or reviewing.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Armed with professional sanction, a _lot_ more information about coping with pregnancy, and a body that no longer appears intent on punishing her for existing, Ana is feeling indomitable as she rides the elevator up to their apartment. All that confidence erodes when the doors open to reveal Christian waiting for her, at a respectful distance; arms hanging loose at his sides, his head bowed as if in shame or deep introspection, and looking unfairly good in tan jeans and his dark-green sweater. He looks up at her arrival, his expression one of pure longing, apparently waiting for a sign from her before he takes any action at all. Suddenly reminded of a wind-up toy soldier before the key is turned – the static image seeming so at odds with Christian's dynamic personality that it grips her heart with sorrow – Ana is again consumed by a powerful need to just sink into his arms and never leave.

_Prime Directive: HOLD FAST _

Her legs finally receiving the command from her brain, Ana steps through the doors as they attempt to close. Holding out her briefcase, she's amazed and thrilled that her voice remains steady as she says, "Good evening, Christian. Would you please put that by my desk? Is dinner ready?"

Clearly shocked by her civility, Christian's reflexes serve him well again and he snaps to, taking her case as he says, "Good evening, Anastasia. I'm glad you're feeling better. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, if that suits?"

"That's fine, thank you. How do you know I'm feeling better?"

With a quiet smile, he says, "You're a normal color again." Reaching out a hand to not quite touch her forehead, he says, "And I've worked out that your brow crinkles just a little when you have a headache. Did you see that the appointment is tomorrow?"

Her heart pounding at the close call – if he'd touched her right now, she'd have crumbled – Ana starts walking as she says, "Yes, thank you. I'll be there. You're in Portland, tomorrow?"

"Uh, yes. I can cancel, if you'd prefer? It's important; we're setting up the continuation of the WSU grant for this coming semester. But you're more important."

Her heart thrilling at this validation of her efforts, Ana says, "No, that's not necessary. What time will you be home?"

"I'm not sure; probably late. These things have a tendency to get out of hand. I'll call you when I know for sure?"

"Thank you."

Ana suddenly stops, only now noticing that she'd been heading towards the master, instead of the guest room. She's wondering if it's possible to recover from this gaffe, without him noticing, when Christian gently says, "It's all right, baby. We're both going to make mistakes. But we'll get there, because the alternative is terrible enough to literally wake me screaming. I understand that I've lost your trust, but I _will_ earn it back. I'm onboard, wherever you lead us, okay?"

_Step 6. Accept help from whomever offers; you'll need it._

This knowledge that his nightmares have returned, after almost three weeks without them, stabs Ana with grief and guilt, even as his support lends her enough courage to meet his gaze and say, "Thank you. I'll just freshen up and meet you in the dining room."

Christian nods and lets her past him to the stairs. She's almost there when he says, "Ana?" When she turns to him, he smiles as if he doesn't have a care in the world and says, "Thank you, for giving me this chance to prove that I can be a good father, and a better husband. I swear, on the life of our child, that I won't let you down again; either of you."

_Hold fast…hold fast…hold fast…_

"We'll see, Christian, we'll see." Wondering if perhaps everyone has been right all along – she really _is_ strong – Ana stares down at them in amazement when her feet obey her enough to climb the stairs away from him.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, now in casual clothing and secretly armed with her "lucky" socks, Ana enters the dining room to see Christian waiting by her chair. This part he's always got right; her submissive side loves and craves the solicitous attention, even as that part of her that will never submit revels in the fact that she's in control of this manifestation of his affection. About to sit down, she panics on remembering that he always kisses her neck or cheek after pushing in her chair, and permits herself the luxury of an audible sigh of relief when he says, "Until further notice: no physical contact without your permission. I worked that one out for myself."

Still, Ana's skin actually tingles in anticipation of the kiss she knows won't happen as she sits down. "Thank you. I'd rather eat, and then talk? Food has to become a priority in my life."

As he takes his seat, Christian says, "Agreed. That's very sensible."

Amazingly, knowing that they're almost again a team means that those angry butterflies leave Ana's stomach alone enough that she can enjoy the meal, though neither of them speak, which feels weird.

_Step 7. Make your intentions known; be clear and concise._

Finally pushing aside what little remains of her dessert, Ana wipes her mouth and says to a waiting Christian, "There are a few conditions for this conversation." At his ready nod, she continues, "If you raise your voice, I'll retire for the evening and we'll attempt it again at our earliest convenience."

"I won't."

Recognizing the conviction in his tone, Ana knows that his reply was quick because he'd already decided on that course, so she continues, "If you touch me, in any context, the same action will result."

Daring the hint of a grin, Christian says, "I already said that one. Have you been practicing these all day?"

Of course, she has, but isn't going to let that grin fester into the smile she can't resist, and coolly asks, "Is that a 'yes'?"

His eyes sparkling with good humor, Christian nevertheless curbs his smile and promises, "Yes."

_Step 8. Be the reed, not the oak tree; bend, when necessary._

Remembering that one of her goals is to restore balance to their relationship by bolstering Christian's confidence, Ana permits his cheekiness, merely continuing, "If you honestly feel unable to comply with one of my requests, please say so, and we will work out a compromise."

"I told you, baby, I'm onboard. I trust that you're doing what's best for the three of us, so I'll do whatever you say." When Ana stares at him – "the three of us" on a permanent loop in her head – Christian grins and jokes, "You kind of wanna fuck me right now, don't you?"

Blushing at this brutal truth, Ana lowers her gaze for a second, but then looks him in the eye to say, "I asked you to curb your language in my presence. Are you refusing to comply?"

Unrepentant, Christian says, "No, ma'am; just adding levity to a serious conversation, in an attempt to ease your concerns." Carefully enunciating every word, as if they all have equal import, he adds, "I will not be a source of stress in your life."

_Step 9. Remember that, ultimately, you both want the same thing; a loving family._

"Is being a father still something you want?"

Flinching from the accusation, Christian says, "Yes. I swear. I know…I can understand…fuck." He quickly amends "Sorry," and, after taking a deep breath, continues, "What I'm trying to say is that I can't imagine how horrible my verbal assault was from your side of the conversation, but it was excruciating from mine. Even as I said those words, and proved that I still don't completely trust you, I couldn't understand why. It was almost as if I was watching the whole thing unfold, horrified yet helpless to stop it. Of course, since talking to Flynn, I now understand it a little better, though his explanation still feels like a lie, or the world's worst practical joke. But, if the two people who know me best say it's true, then I can accept it as a fact and work with that new knowledge until I believe it. May I apologize now?"

"No, you may not. Can you understand why I'm doing this?"

Too shocked at first to speak, Christian gives it serious consideration, then asks, "Because I fu…messed up too bad to be able to make it right with an apology?"

Saddened, but unsurprised, that he's in that frame of mind, Ana shakes her head and says, "For a start, I know you're sorry; you already said so more than once. Secondly, I see little point in apologizing for something that couldn't have been avoided; you acted that way because you were incapable of doing otherwise. Instead, we're going to focus on making sure it _cannot_ happen again. Agreed?"

Again earning back an iota of her trust by thinking before speaking, Christian eventually nods and says, "With one exception." At her wary nod, he explains, "Drunk as I was, I could have chosen not to speak with Elena. May I apologize for that?"

Her heart pounding in response even to that name, Ana steals a few moments to calm herself and then says, "I think you just did. But, yes, though I'd rather not get distracted right now. Write it out and get it to me later, okay?" Contenting himself with a nod, Christian awaits further instruction. "Which brings me rather neatly to my first point; do you remember much of last night, after you left here?"

"Sadly, yes, though there are gaps. I walked further than I would have thought possible, and I don't remember much at all of the car ride home. I may have passed out. You want me to tell you everything?"

"I do, and I trust you to be completely honest. But, again, I'd prefer you write it down; email or letter. Some issues we'll need to discuss, and I thank you now for making that prospect less scary for me by cooperating. But, as you've apparently already learned, stress is dangerous for me and the baby, so I'll avoid verbal confrontations where possible, at least until things settle down. Any questions so far?"

"You have conditions?"

Grateful that he's not only amenable, but actually anticipating her, Ana says, "Yes. I will stay in the guest room until I feel able to trust you again." When he only looks a little pained at this, she continues, "I will not lock the door again, as I know you can be trusted to respect my wishes." Finally finding something to smile about, Ana cheekily concludes, "Except when I'm apparently in danger, of course."

Christian also smiles and says, "Yes. Sorry about that, but you stopped mid-sentence and didn't reply even when I knocked and called your name. I imagined you lying unconscious on the floor, not puking into the porcelain." His brow crinkling a little in confusion, he then asks, "This is not punishment?"

_Step 10. Remember that, according to Lorca, he is already enduring the greatest punishment._

"No, though it will feel like it for both of us. I presume that, like me, you've been a little distracted by this all day, and I know what Flynn told you I have a plan. Have you worked out my goal…_our_ goal?"

"Actually, I've been _very_ distracted; thinking of little else other than what I did, why, and how to make it right. I think so; you…we, need to get me past this fear of parenthood by the time our first baby is born?"

Immediate tears burning her eyes, Ana had felt the word "first" almost as a push to her gut; a powerful force of hope. Christian's tortured expression confirms that she's not concealing her disquiet, so she quickly reassures him, "I'm okay. It's just…you said 'first,' as if you're contemplating more children."

With a brilliant smile that does nothing to stop the well of happy tears, Christian says, "Of course. I told you so. The fact that I'm currently unfit to be a father doesn't mean it isn't something I want." Suddenly sobering, he says, "I really did a number on you, didn't I? Do you have any respect left for me at all?"

Quickly wiping away the few tears, Ana says, "I do, or this wouldn't be a discussion, it would be an ultimatum."

Christian slumps in profound relief and says, "Thank you. So, you're imagining a scenario where we'll eventually get back to normal? This is not pressure. I have been, will be and am willing to do anything to have you in my life, under any conditions; including separate bedrooms, if need be."

Free to roll her eyes without repercussion, Ana instead holds his earnest gaze and patiently reminds him, "Christian, I love you; that hasn't changed. And the man I love is the one who can't get through a day without sex, spends quite a bit time thinking up fun new scenarios to act out in the playroom, and enjoys laying his hand on my ass because he knows how much it thrills me, literally to my core." Knowing that she's chosen the right words, when frank desire darkens Christian's expression, she concludes, "But that man is not a father, he's a lover. We need to encourage Cuddly Christian for a while."

With its usual speed, his mood changes, and he grimly declares, "It seems that Creepy Christian is more apt. How are you not disgusted by me?"

_Step 10. Make him see that he's deserving of every _good_ thing that's ever happened to him._

With a sigh, at the enormity of her task, Ana says, "Which brings us back to my conditions; every single day, you are to give me one reason why I should let you have anything to do with this child. Any hint of self-loathing, like the statement you just made, means having to come up with one more."

Pondering this for a while, Christian asks, "Well, for how long? How many reasons do I have to come up with?"

"I'm thinking ten?"

Again relieved, Christian says, "I can do that."

Knowing that he's over-confident, Ana says, "Okay, go ahead; they must be believable, and I reserve the right to void any attempt if I think it too weak."

Still confident, Christian says, "Agreed." Several seconds have passed before his smug expression morphs into confusion, then desperation. Finally, it's almost a question when he says, "Because my business acumen ensures that they will want for nothing."

Unsurprised – she knew that his mostly well concealed self-hatred wouldn't make this an easy task – Ana says, "As this is your first attempt, I'll allow it. But I think you can do better. How do you feel about this condition?"

Grimacing a little, Christian says, "Suddenly not so good. But I understand and acknowledge the necessity." Straightening his spine a little, he promises, "I'll do better tomorrow."

Smiling at this evidence that his confidence isn't completely shattered, Ana says, "I know you will. I'm banking everything on your ability to improve." Suddenly thinking of an amendment that might help both of them cope with her plan, Ana suggests, "What about a reward? One kiss for every adequate response?" At his immediate and obvious arousal, she quickly adds, "Just a kiss."

The too-fast rise and fall of his chest an indication of his willingness, Christian says, "Baby, there is nothing 'just' about your kisses. I'd like that, very much. But can we save it for bedtime? I think my dreams might leave me alone if you give me a goodnight kiss."

Her heart aching for him, Ana complains, "Fuck, Christian, now I feel like shit."

With a grin, he says, "Oh, so you're permitted profanities, but I'm not?"

_Step 11. Remind him, when necessary, why you're currently in charge._

"Yes. I haven't done anything wrong."

Suitably chastised, Christian cringes and says, "No, you haven't. I'm sorry."

"Accepted. Which brings us back to my conditions; no more discipline. You've lost that privilege, at least for now."

"I'd assumed so, but thank you, for making it clear." When Ana says nothing else, he asks, "That's it?"

"Uh, yeah, pretty much; respect, space, time and the reasons why you'll make a good father. Other than that, we can play it by ear, because I trust you to do what's right. And I suppose it makes sense for either of us to suggest amendments if this isn't working. But that will do for now, unless you can think of anything else we need?"

"Flynn has recommended, and I've agreed, to alter the current course of my therapy. We'll postpone the regressions for now and focus on supporting your plan. You okay with that? You're still welcome to accompany me, but it's no longer necessary. In fact, I think you're better off not going, only because it might be stressful for you, not because I'm concealing anything."

"That's a good idea, thank you." Shaking her head a little, Ana says, "Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm thrilled that you're being so cooperative. After last night, and even this morning, I thought that you'd fight me every step of the way. Thank you, Christian."

"No, thank _you_, Anastasia. I know this won't be easy. But, after what I said and did…when I woke up this morning and saw that you hadn't slept in our bed, I was sure you were gone for good, and I knew that…" With uncharacteristic emotion, Christian voice cracks and he clears his throat before continuing, "And I _knew_ that you were right to do so. Do you understand what I mean by 'knew'?"

"Yes, darling; I've turned your world upside down yet again. We're not okay, but we will be."

All the confirmation she needs that they're on the right path is reflected in the solitary tear that runs down his cheek.

_Step 12. Protect yourself at all times. The scorpion will sting without warning._

Before she gives in to the apparently constant urge to seek comfort in his arms, Ana brusquely says, "Well, this went better than expected, thank you. I've some work to do, then I'll be getting an early night. I'm exhausted."

"May I…" Ana guesses that her inner turmoil must be present on her face, because Christian hesitates before concluding, "Sit with you?"

Smiling her gratitude, that he's not asked for something she's unprepared to give, Ana says, "Of course. So long as you respect my wishes about keeping your distance, things can go on almost as normal. If you'd been militant, I'd have withdrawn further." Shaking her head a little, she continues, "I'm amazed you're so calm about this. Flynn said you were upset after your session."

With a shrug, Christian reveals, "I was. Learning that I've become the one person I genuinely hate was not fun. Then Flynn interrupted my tantrum with that amendment to your conditions for leaving me; message received and understood, by the way." At Ana's smile, he continues, "By then I'd calmed down a little and asked him to up my dose. Instead, he's changed my script for a powerful and specific anti-anxiety medication; everything is kind of muted. I can't say that I like it very much, but I needed to ensure that I don't fuck up again."

Immediately worried about the long-term effects, Ana asks, "For how long?"

Smiling a little at her concern, Christian says, "Not long, baby. I know you'd said that you weren't leaving me. But I don't think that I could quite believe it until I saw that note. It reminded me that you need me, too, just as much as I need you. We'll get through this. In the meantime, I am chemically bound to hear your demands without panicking. Are you sure about the no-apology clause?"

"Positive." Not quite confident of the answer, despite these reassurances, Ana then asks, "So, she's gone for good?"

"Probably not from Seattle, so there's unfortunately the chance of a random sighting. But, so far as you or I are concerned, yes. She even sold me her handful of shares in GEH. I no longer have either personal or business ties with Elena Lincoln. Would you like to see my reply to her text? I know you trust me to be honest in my written account of my actions, and thank you, for that. But it might give you some peace of mind, to actually see the words."

After considering for a moment, Ana realizes that he's right. "Okay."

As he readies his phone, Christian shakes his head, saying, "How did you not look at it last night? I wouldn't have been able to resist."

"It wasn't easy. Trust is a choice. I just decided to choose you."

Looking at her with wounded love, Christian says, "Even though I don't deserve it?"

_Step 13. When he is weak, be strong._

"That's eleven now, Christian."

After a beat, he says, "I'd like to argue the point."

Secretly thrilled that he's doing so, Ana merely nods and says, "Go ahead."

"I maintain that my behavior last night was bad enough to destroy any trust you had for me, and only your strength of character ensured that you have enough faith in me to be having this conversation."

Pretending to give it serious thought, Ana instead counts seven seconds and then says, "Agreed. Okay; we're back to ten reasons why you'd make a good father."

When Ana holds out her hand, Christian hands over his phone, carefully avoiding contact. Even the warmth of that inanimate object threatens her resolve, because she knows that it's _his_ warmth. So her hands are trembling slightly as she brings the screen closer, only to see that the message is still unopened. Looking up at Christian's smiling face, she says, "I suppose you think you're pretty clever?"

She catches a glimpse of the man she loves in his smug grin and he says, "Yes. Want the honor of deleting it?"

Ana does so as she says, "Not only an honor, but a privilege, thank you." Handing back his phone, she adds, "Do you think she was trying to win you back?"

His mood still jovial, Christian quotes, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn." When Ana giggles at his Rhett Butler accent, he suddenly sobers and says, "God, I've missed that sound."

They're both quiet for a while, silently warring with the sudden sexual tension in the air. Eventually, Ana asks, "Why did you tell her about the baby?" At his surprise, she adds, "I saw the last few words; she said you'll make a wonderful father."

"I didn't tell her. She asked what our fight was about and I said that you wanted to start a family. Ana, I'm content to share any and every detail with you, but this is not a subject we've ever been able to discuss without you getting upset. You're already under enormous strain, and need to be on guard against such situations until the baby is strong enough to withstand the additional cortisol in your system."

Smiling, Ana says only, "Research."

Christian laughs a little and says, "Yes. We're going to get it right. I can't fail at this. It would end me."

Her voice small, Ana says, "Me, too." Snapping out of her solemn mood, she then proposes, "Well, I have homework, and you need to hover relentlessly in an effort to make sure I'm not overdoing it. Shall we begin?"

Smiling at her description of what their evenings will become, Christian stands and pulls back her chair, saying, "After you, ma'am."

* * *

Where credit's due: "To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." – Federico García Lorca, _Blood Wedding and Yerma_

_The Scorpion and the Frog_, a tale purportedly originating from a fable by Aesop (The Farmer and the Viper). _The Oak and the Reed_ is also by Aesop.

To all who offered ideas for Ana's project; with special mention to CyannaS, who took an idea I had and made it so much _more_. As you see, I've implemented your suggestion in its entirety, thank you.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

With Ana working at her desk, Christian soon joins her; plugging in his laptop and sitting where he can glance up and see her. And that's exactly what he does, every now and then catching Ana looking back at him, so they smile a little before getting back to work. After a while, Christian gets her attention and asks, "Assuming I don't fuck up again, hopefully a realistic assumption, we'll be doing this for ten days?"

"Uh, I guess so; hadn't really thought that far ahead. I'm just happy to get through a day at a time right now."

Christian cringes under her just assessment and says, "This evening wasn't too bad for you?"

"No. I'm actually having fun, which would have seemed incredible only this morning. I know you've made enormous concessions for me when it comes to your work, so this is not a complaint, but I miss you when you're in the study."

"I've told you, baby, you're welcome anytime."

He has, in fact, made that clear several times, so Ana shrugs and says, "Yes, I know. But it just doesn't feel right, unless I have something important to tell you." Judging that he can take it, she then teases, "Plus, sometimes you're yelling into your phone and no one wants to be around for that."

"Fair point, though I don't do that nearly as often as I used to. Everyone is better off for me knowing you." When she only stares off into space, he asks, "Ana?"

"Oh, just trying to remember who told me that would happen…I think it might have been Brit." Shrugging off the vague memory, Ana asks, "What was I saying?"

With a quiet smile, Christian says, "You weren't, baby. I was trying to ask if you're okay with me moving my desk in here for the duration of your plan. Okay?"

"Of course. You don't have to actually ask me permission to do stuff, Christian. You're still you, and I'm still me, I'm just…"

When she hesitates, Christian angrily grinds out, "Hurt."

She knows that the anger is not for her, and gently says, "Yes. And you're dangerously close to earning another reason."

Shaking his head to dispel his melancholy, like a dog expelling water from its coat, Christian says, "You're right." Forcing a smile, he then adds, "Are you nearly done? You're getting tired." At her confusion, he explains, "You're twirling that lock of hair at the side of your forehead."

Snatching her hand away from her hair, and blushing that he knows her so well, Ana reveals, "One time, Mom had to cut my fringe because I'd twisted it into a Gordian knot. She was furious." Standing, she says, "You're right. I'm exhausted. Walk me up?"

Immediately brightening, Christian says, "Yes, of course. Uh, I haven't quite finished my apology yet."

Ana laughs and exclaims, "That's what you've been working on all this time? It's been hours, Christian."

Now it's his turn to blush, and he says, "Well, it's difficult to come up with an excuse for the inexcusable, and I first had to document a somewhat sketchy account of my nefarious nocturnal activities. I can send that to you now, if you'd like?"

Ana considers it. She is, after all, very curious to know the details of his evening, but remembers that it will include an account of his conversation with Elena. "No, thank you. I'd rather go to bed happy, and I owe you a kiss."

Just the thought of it, after so long without the feel of his lips on hers, is enough to spread a flush of desire through her body and over her skin. Ana sees an answering passion in Christian's suddenly intense gaze. Audibly breathing control into his body, he then says, "Can we do this? Because I don't want to make things more difficult for you."

It's all she needs; this reassurance that's he's thinking of what's best for them, even at the expense of his own happiness. Knowing that _her_ Christian is the man speaking gives Ana the courage to promise, "We can do it. One kiss, and then we go to separate rooms."

They manage to climb the stairs together without even accidentally touching. At the top step, Ana turns, her face for once level with his, and says, "Uh, maybe we'd better say goodnight here. I'm not sure I trust myself kissing you within a few feet of the bed."

Surprised at her words, Christian says, "Thanks, babe. It's actually reassuring to know that I'm not the only one who…" Glancing at his groin, where not even thick denim is enough to conceal his erection, he concludes, "You know what I mean."

Suddenly concerned, Ana says, "You're sure this won't be too much for you? I know you, Christian; you hurt me, but doing so caused you suffering. I don't want to make it worse."

His smile serene, Christian quotes, "We are healed of a suffering only by experiencing it to the full."

Also smiling, she guesses, "Proust." Having decided, Ana nods and says, "Thank you, for a surprisingly pleasant evening, Christian. If we get through this, it will be due largely to your efforts to make things right."

Christian shakes his head a little, saying, "Sweetheart, _when_ we get through this, it will be because you are the most incredible, patient, insightful, understanding…"

When her lips touch his it causes the oddest effect; Ana gasps in wonder at the exquisite pleasure of that simple gesture, seemingly even as a moan of desire escapes her. It's echoed by a similar but deeper sound from Christian; the two of them forging a harmony of need.

Somehow finding the strength to end it before they reach the point of no return, Ana is about to accuse Christian of cheating – she'd felt his gentle caress but been powerless to stop it – when she notices his white-knuckle grip on the bannisters either side of her body. Shocked, and still a little dazed from the kiss, she gasps, "You only touched me with your lips?"

Glancing down at her hands resting on his chest, Christian smiles and says, "Yes, baby, though I'm ridiculously pleased that you couldn't resist breaking your own rule."

Again amazing herself by managing to let go of him, Ana blushes and withdraws her hands as she lies, "I was worried about falling."

His smile changes to a cheeky grin, and Christian says, "Now, you know there's no way in hell I'd let that happen." Ana sees the idea form just before he asks, "An amendment?" At her nod, he suggests, "May I save up these indiscretions, for when you again permit discipline?"

Thrilled that he's already trusting their love enough to contemplate such a time, even as a vivid memory of his hand on her ass takes her breath away, Ana recovers enough to say, "Of course, though I fail to see how thinking of spanking me will make things easier on you."

"Distraction. As soon as you go through that door, I risk sinking into justified rage at myself. I know you don't want that. And I understand that it's not a quality our child needs in their father, so one of _my_ goals in this exercise is to extinguish my ingrained tendency towards self-loathing."

Almost moved to tears at this knowledge of how intent Christian is at supporting her plan, Ana squeaks, "You'd better go."

With a knowing smile that she's so affected by his presence, Christian nods and says, "All right. Good night, Anastasia. Thank you, for a lovely evening."

"No, thank _you_, Christian, for not making this feel too much like punishment for me. I'll see you tomorrow."

When he makes no move, Ana realizes that he's waiting for her to leave his sight. At the brand new door, her seemingly indomitable strength finally fails her, so that she simply cannot endure looking back at him when she morosely bids him goodnight, before almost fleeing through the door, there to quickly shut it and lean her forehead against the cool varnished wood until she recovers the will to move. Only then does she realize what he'd said, "Sweet dreams, my love."

Turning, she sees an addition to her furniture, which hadn't been there when she got home, though her possessions from the master bedroom were. It's a mini-bar, stocked with drinks and food that were on Dr. Greene's list of prescribed snacks and supplements for pregnant women. Christian must have ordered it during the day and had Taylor install it this evening. Wondering why he didn't mention it, Ana quickly realizes that he wouldn't even see this as being worthy of note; just something that, in his eyes, needed to be done, so he made it happen. Still, she's kneeling in front of it, weeping with gratitude as she lovingly investigates the contents, until she finds the will to drag herself away and get ready for bed.

* * *

Not aware what wakes her with a start, Ana is again forced to endure remembering why she's sleeping in the guest room, alone. Running a maternal hand over her belly, she whispers, "That couldn't have been you waking me already, could it, Little Blip?" And then she recalls the dream; caught in a tornado, spinning wildly opposite a beaten and battered Christian, she'd desperately reached for his hand, even as he struggled to get to her, but they'd never quite made it and he'd drifted away from her. Gasping for air, she manages to avoid yet more tears and again addresses the only other being in the room to say, "Well, we don't need John to analyze that one, do we?"

After a drink of water and a visit to the bathroom, she tries futilely to get back to sleep, but her tortured thoughts won't let her. Finally, after an hour of staring at the clock, she decides to sneak downstairs and get some work done. Donning her toweling robe, Ana opens the door and quickly recovers from the shock of seeing someone sitting in the dimly lit corridor when she realizes that it can only be Christian. Sitting in one corner with his back against the wall, legs out straight, his hands having fallen to his sides and his head bowed forward as he sleeps, Ana knows that she got it wrong before; he's not a wind-up toy, rather a puppet waiting for someone to grant him movement. Stabbed with guilt that her actions have reduced him to this, she pushes it aside, because she honestly can't think of another way to heal, and help him do the same, without making matters worse.

Squatting beside him, she gently says "Christian? Baby, wake up," and his eyes flicker open. She can't help but answer his brilliant smile on seeing her. In the next instant, she loses it to ask, "What on earth are you doing here?"

With a shrug, he says only, "I couldn't sleep in our bed without you."

Determined not to let Christian punish himself for perceived inadequacies, Ana stands as she says, "And didn't I say to let me know if you feel unable to comply with one of my requests?"

Wincing, he says, "Yes, you did. In my defense, I only found out when I tried to sleep, and didn't want to wake you. What compromise do you suggest?"

Offering a hand, which he readily accepts, Ana helps him stand, perhaps lingering a moment longer than she needs to before releasing him as she says, "I could sit with you, until you fall asleep?"

Choking on his surprise at her compassion, his grateful mien evident even in this dim light, Christian eventually manages to say, "That could work."

When, as usual, he then gestures that she should precede him, Ana grins and says, "You know how clumsy I am when I'm unfocused; you go first."

Making no mention of why her thoughts might not be currently on where she places her feet, Christian says, "Good plan. Need the lights on?"

Her eyes having adjusted to the permanent emergency lighting, Ana says, "No, thank you. Just catch me if I fall."

His oh-so-familiar playful grin the only warning, Ana is forced to make her suddenly trembling legs work while Christian croons the opening lines of Newton Faulkner's "Dream Catch Me" as they descend. Finally, it's too much, and she stops, sitting on a step while her body still obeys her. "Not fair, Grey."

Chuckling, Christian says, "Sorry, baby, couldn't resist. You did seem like the answer to my dreams just now…as you always have."

Certain now that he's doing it deliberately, Ana asks, "Why are you torturing me?"

Leaning close enough that her body heats up in response to the promised contact, he smilingly says, "Because you can't sleep either. So we both need distraction. And because you like it."

Paradoxically pleased that Christian is pushing the boundaries on their new rules, Ana doesn't really dare hope that he's caught a glimpse of her secret goal – the one she's been afraid to give even silent voice to – so she merely smiles and says, "You've caught on quick."

Christian shrugs and says, "Once I stopped wasting time hating myself, it was easy. One of the things I did this evening was to write down everything you'd said at dinner, so I wouldn't forget it. I understand that your plan is to get me ready to be a halfway decent father. Of course, I want that too, and will continue to support your efforts, even expand on them in cooperation with Flynn. However, going over my notes later, after you'd gone to bed, I suddenly understood why you've given me so few conditions for remaining in your life."

Not quite game to breathe, Ana asks only, "And?"

"You've been telling me so in several different ways." Despite his confident manner, Christian is nervously studying her reaction to his words when he says, "You want me to take back control of our lives." When moisture pools in Ana's eyes, he relaxes and gently continues, "But you're scared."

Ana's voice is so soft that even she can barely hear it. "Yes."

"You believe that I will be a good father."

Though it's not a question, Ana confidently says, "I know you will."

With an apologetic smile, Christian says, "Not quite there yet, baby, but soon. And you believe that I am worthy of your love?" When she only smiles, he amends, "Okay, you _know_ that I'm worthy."

"Thank you. Yes, I do."

"So I'm taking back control. Because, if you can trust me, I can too."

_Step 14. When he's ready, pay him the greatest compliment._

Despite his words seeming like a command, Ana knows that, when he then offers his hand, it's a humble plea; that she give him this chance to make things right. Her heart hammering against her ribs, the memory of last night's torment still fresh in her mind, and that recent nightmare returning to haunt her, she can't find the strength to thank him. But she doesn't hesitate to put her hand, her life, and that of their baby in his open palm.

Without a word, Christian helps her stand, then leads her back up the stairs. When she's finally able to speak, Ana asks, "Christian?"

"You need rest, and I'll be fine now. I'll sit with you until you get back to sleep, then we'll stick with your plan. The only difference being that, in matters of the baby's safety, I make the calls. Because we're both new to this, but you know that I'll throw myself into learning everything I can about caring for you both. Agreed?"

"Thank you, Sir."

Christian chuckles as he opens her door and guides her through, saying, "And, if I'm to leave you alone for ten days, you'd better not start any of that shit."

"Just grateful, Sir."

Christian groans, his smiling eyes betraying his true mood, when he says, "I've just given you permission to torture me, haven't I?"

Giggling, Ana says, "Yes. But I _am_ grateful."

Dragging an armchair closer to the bed while Ana gets under the covers, he says, "I really have missed that sound. Thank you, baby. That can't have been easy for you."

"Easier than being the one who has to worry about everything, including you. You reminded me of a puppet, sitting out there on the landing, waiting for your puppeteer. It just seemed so wrong."

Grinning, Christian jokes, "One day I'll be a real boy." At the shocked look on Ana's face, he asks, "Okay, baby?"

Shaking her head a little to clear her thoughts, Ana says, "Just had a really vivid image of you playing with our son."

"A son, huh? And is he a ginger, too?"

Thrilled that he's already able to discuss it, Ana smilingly says, "Of course. He's also smart and talented and gives his Mom a hard time because he knows that she secretly loves it."

They smile at each other for a while, and then Christian says, "All right; time for sleep."

"Yes, Sir."

A softly growled "Ana," makes her giggle again, and he says, "Just go to sleep, Adorable Ana. You can torture me again tomorrow."

Ana only smiles at this. Suddenly sitting bolt upright, holding out a reassuring hand when Christian immediately looks worried, she asks, "Do you want to see a picture of our baby?"

"A picture?"

"Ultrasound; _internal_ ultrasound. She used a wand thingy that...it was embarrassing."

"I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault. It's the only way to see what's going on at this stage."

Smiling a little that she's misunderstood, Christian says, "I'm sorry, because you wouldn't have had to go through that alone if you weren't positive that the news would freak me out. And, yes, I'd love to see our baby, thank you."

"My handbag." Thanking him when Christian fetches her bag, rather than fossicking through it, Ana retrieves the printout and passes it to him. She knows that he's correct to continue with her plan when lingering fear of his reaction causes the slight tremor in her hands. Ignoring it, she explains, "The arrow shows which blob is ours."

Of course, Christian glances at the photo and then looks at her in confusion, asking, "That dot is our baby?"

Laughing at his comical expression; a mixture of surprise and mild disappointment, Ana says, "He's only five weeks old, darling. He'll get bigger."

Christian's expression relaxes into amusement and he says, "I certainly hope so. You're sure it's a boy, then?"

Ana shrugs and says, "I guess so. Though I won't mind either way. What about you?"

After considering for a moment, Christian says, "Boy is slightly less terrifying, only because I've been one." Glancing up to gift her with a smile that dispels all her fear, he adds, "Though a little blue-eyed girl sounds appealing, too."

The fact that he's now contemplating children as something to smile about means that Ana's eyes are once again burning with the beginning of tears. But she contains them and says, "Thank you, darling."

Christian nods his understanding and cautions, "Light going on." When Ana has shielded her eyes from the shock, he turns on a lamp and records the portrait with his Blackberry, then returns the photo, saying, "And, thank _you_. I'm sure to have pleasant dreams now."

When Ana lies down with one hand on top of the covers in silent plea, Christian nods once, turns off the light, and brings the chair even closer so that they can hold hands as she falls asleep. However, only minutes later, it's Ana who smiles at her peacefully sleeping husband. Finally, truly confident that they'll be okay, she gradually falls asleep to dream of a cricket singing "When You Wish Upon a Star."

* * *

When the first thing Ana sees, on waking, is a small wrapped gift on the armchair by her bed, she knows that Christian has left for Portland. Saddened that she won't get to have breakfast with him, she nevertheless smiles, remembering that they're once again focused on a common goal. Cautiously sitting up, because her stomach is already rebelling against the idea of starting another day, she bothers with a drink of water and a salted cracker before opening the card, which reads, "Just a little something to remind you that I want this, too. Grateful husband and proud father, Christian Grey."

Inside is an exquisite antique teardrop pendant and earrings; a light-blue gemstone surrounded by tiny diamonds and mounted in a lustrous silver metal. A tiny description explains that the stone is aquamarine, the birthstone of March; the due date of their baby. With trembling fingers, Ana texts Christian, "BASTARD…I'm crying again!"

She can imagine him smiling when he soon replies with, "You're always crying. Please look after yourself today? You're not only precious to me, but you're carrying something precious, too."

It's too much. She actually calls him to blubber, "How is that meant to stop me crying?"

Christian chuckles and says, "Good morning, baby. I'm glad you slept. And I'm sorry to make you cry. But I mean it, okay? I won't be there to nag you."

Calming down at the sound of his voice, Ana wipes a hand over her eyes and says, "I will, I promise."

"And you'll tell me what the doctor says?"

At first confused, Ana remembers that she has that appointment with Christian's chosen headache expert today, and says, "I will. You're still happy to stick to the plan?"

He laughs again and says, "I'll never be happy sleeping away from you. But I'm content to proceed. Oh, hey, I even worked out why you insisted that I curb my language; practice for when the kids are old enough to understand, right?"

Thrilled, Ana laughs for pure joy and says, "Yes. Now you understand, we can relax that rule, if you'd like? I just wanted you to be aware of it."

Christian is quiet for a second, then says, "How about we reserve profanities for private moments?"

Ana smiles at his formal description and says, "Okay. Then fuck you, Grey. Because of your generosity, I'll go to work with puffy eyes again."

Christian laughs and says, "Fuck you, too. Because of your lusciousness, I have to attend a meeting with a hard-on…again."

Not very concerned, now that they're back on track, Ana asks, "Do you think we'll be able to last ten days?"

"I do. But only because I'm again in charge. Have you read yet about increased libido during early pregnancy?"

Ana smiles and says, "Yes. But you're forgetting that my hormones have been a factor all this time, so it won't actually change much."

"Oh, right. I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that you've been pregnant all this time. Explains why you eat more nowadays, and why you're often tired…probably even explains the headaches. How's the nausea this morning?"

"Not too bad. I'm staying in bed until it settles down. Thank you, for the mini bar. That was a lovely surprise."

In a quiet tone, that nevertheless carries great conviction, Christian promises, "You _will_ have what you need, Ana. That would have been the case even if you'd left me."

"I believe you. I think I can move now, and my bladder demands attention."

Laughter is evident in his voice when Christian asks, "Not going to stay on the line while you pee?"

She knows that he'll be laughing when she suddenly hangs up the phone.

* * *

Where credit's due: "To be trusted is a greater compliment than being loved." - George MacDonald

Carlo Collodi and the Disney Corporation, for _Pinocchio_.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

When her thoughts are not consumed by her work, in which she is still sadly behind after being unable to focus on it yesterday, Ana vacillates between worrying about whether she and Christian are really past the danger and smiling at the memory of how cute he was last night. He's trying so hard to make up for lashing out at her in his panic, but Ana still feels so hurt that, when she imagines being close to him, all she feels is afraid. She's yet again lost in thought when Ryan knocks on the door and enters her office, carrying a large wrapped gift. Smiling, he says, "Delivery for you, Mrs. Grey. It's safe."

He knows about her pregnancy; Christian's idea, so that her current bodyguard has all the information necessary to protect her and the baby. Ana has had to endure Ryan's congratulations and then quiet smiles all morning. She thanks him and he winks before leaving, a gesture so out of character for the normally reserved former FBI agent that Ana only stares at him, then shakes her head when he's gone, wondering if it's going to be like this with everyone when the news inevitably breaks.

Attached to the large box is a card featuring a photo of piano keys on which rests a blue butterfly; evoking a memory of what Christian had said on their honeymoon, about butterflies not knowing how beautiful they are. It feels as if her heart cannot contain her joy when she sees that he's written inside "Second reason why I'll make a good father; the gift of music," again signing it, "Grateful husband and proud father, Christian Grey." Wondering how he's managed it in such short time, and when he's working, she knows that he's not only reassuring her that he's sticking to their plan, but also reminding her – with the butterfly – of his love for her.

Now very curious, Ana opens the gift to find a pregnancy music belt; something she can wear as her belly expands, that will play music from her iPod at the perfect volume for a growing fetus. Christian will be busy by now, so she wipes the happy tears away and limits her gratitude to the short text message, "Bastard."

She almost hugs her phone when he soon replies, "Lucky bastard."

Pondering how she's going to get the gift home without letting her entire staff know that she's pregnant, Ana realizes that she should have known Christian would have considered that when, after a polite interval, Ryan returns with a large, plastic bag and whisks away the evidence, though she keeps the card, so she can look at it during the day.

Thankfully, with this boost to her courage, the day goes quicker and Hannah is soon alerting Ana that it's time for her appointment with the neurologist. Not that she doesn't trust her assistant, but "Appointment" really is all that the young woman knows and she doesn't enquire further, so Ana is genuinely grateful as she thanks her and heads out, of course accompanied by Ryan. At her car – her darling VW – Ana holds out a hand for the keys, but he says, "Uh, I've received instructions that you're not to drive until we know the cause of these headaches, ma'am."

Ana knows that she could override the order, and he would obey her. But, she's given Christian control, and these are his wishes. So she smiles enough to let Ryan know that she's not upset with him and says, "I guess it could have been worse; he could have said no driving until after the baby is born, and then we'd _really_ have a problem."

Ryan smiles his gratitude and relief, saying, "I'm sure that will become a factor in later months. Thank you, ma'am. Not that it matters, but I happen to agree with him this time. Frequent headaches could be caused by any number of things that would make driving dangerous."

As she gets in the back seat, Ana quips, "Or a natural side-effect of being married to Christian Grey."

Chuckling as he starts the car, Ryan says, "Or that."

The waiting room of the private clinic is typically depressing, and the receptionist typically bored, but Ana doesn't have to wait long before she's in a consulting room being greeted by "Colin". Apparently having been provided with Ana's medical history, he asks several generic questions about her health and habits before saying, "Now, to the specific reason you're here; you've been having persistent headaches? When did they start? I understand you won't have paid attention to the first one or two; your best guess as to when the pattern began will be close enough."

Ana has given it some thought since Christian expressed some concern. "Thinking back, I'd say leading up to finals. I didn't think anything of it, with the strain I was under at the time. But they've worsened since then. Again, didn't seem that strange, given that I've met and married Christian Grey in the meantime, gaining a publishing company in the process and learning to cope with daily attention from the press." She knows that he has the information, but can't help the slight flush to her cheeks when she adds, "And apparently fallen pregnant."

Colin is taking notes as she speaks and clips, "Time of day?"

"Morning; almost always. Though they occasionally linger all day if I'm under a lot of strain, and sometimes reoccur if I'm tired enough to need a nap."

"Pain level on a scale of one to ten; with ten being the worst pain you've ever experienced?"

"Around an eight, I guess; worse than cramps, but not as bad as a broken bone."

"Ever woken by them?"

Actually becoming worried at these rather specific questions, Ana stammers, "Uh, yeah…sometimes. But I just find a comfy position that eases the pain and go back to sleep."

There; right there. Ana sees the moment when he becomes worried, and her heart is pounding when she dares to ask, "What is it?"

He recovers quickly, saying, "I'm not sure yet. Have you experienced any other neurological symptoms; gaps in memory, behavior changes, blurred vision, dizziness or fainting, speech problems, decreased motor skills?"

Becoming increasingly nervous, Ana jokes, "Well, all that just made me dizzy." When this elicits only a fake smile, she continues, "No, not really. I'm naturally clumsy, but have been less so since meeting Christian…he gives me confidence and focus. Uh, you'd better ask _him_ if my behavior has changed. No vision or speech problems; likewise with the memory. I sometimes get dizzy if I don't eat regularly – it was even more of a problem in my teens – but that hasn't happened for a while, because I've been paying more attention to my diet. Was that it?"

"Yes, thank you. Your brain seems to be functioning just fine, but I'd like to run a few simple tests."

"Only after you tell me what's going on."

With an ease no doubt born of habit, Colin smoothly says, "It's too early to tell right now, Mrs. Grey. We'll know more soon."

"Just tell me what you suspect. I'm not going to faint, and I won't freak out."

He studies her for a while, obviously deciding how much to say, and then reveals, "I suspect a cyst or tumor. But, as I said, it's too early to tell."

The pulse of her emotional pain suddenly seeming to give the universe a heartbeat, Ana waits until the perceived sound recedes before saying, "You're talking about cancer."

Carefully studying her reaction, he continues, "Not at all, though that's one possibility. As I said, it's too early to tell, and only ten percent of tumors are cancerous. _If_ it's a tumor – and it's a big 'if' – we're in luck; close to the surface and small enough not to cause anything other than headaches is as good as it gets with such a diagnosis. Worst case scenario is an entirely survivable condition, so try to maintain that calm."

Ana swallows her fear and asks, "Best case?"

Somewhat taken aback by the question, Colin says, "You need a new pillow; one better suited to the shape of your body. And there're all manner of possibilities in between. How about we get started on finding out which one it is?"

Remembering that Christian's perpetual concern for her health and comfort ensured he bought a tailored pillow when he first became aware that she often woke up in pain, Ana is already preparing herself for bad news when she says, "Please."

After several minutes of poking, prodding, positioning and instructing Ana to follow his finger with her eyes while asking her questions, Colin says, "Well, you can keep your pillow. I'd like to schedule an MRI, so we can eliminate a few more possibilities, and take a few samples, to see if they tell us anything." He sits down and motions that Ana should do the same before asking, "Your background information contains no mention of your father's medical history?"

Wondering how Christian got even Carla's history, Ana says, "Uh, no. My father upheld a long family tradition of dying young and leaving his widow and baby to cope on a military pension."

Adding something to the file before him, Colin says, "I'm sorry to hear that. And how old was he when he died?"

"Twenty-four, I think. Mom would know for sure. Why?"

"Because there's nothing in your mother's history to suggest this is a genetic condition. Again, just eliminating possibilities."

Ana nods and asks, "Is an MRI safe for the baby?"

"If we do without the contrast agent – the dye – almost certainly. You can check with your obstetrician if you're concerned."

"No, that's okay. If Christian chose you, I'm sure you're highly qualified." Then taking a deep breath, summoning further reserves of courage, Ana asks, "And, if it _is_ cancer? What about the baby, then? I mean…I know it's not contagious, but…we're sharing a body, right?"

Finally losing some of his clinical coldness, Colin kindly explains, "Even as this age, your baby isn't defenseless. If cancer cells attempt to cross the placental barrier, they'll be destroyed. There's some evidence to suggest that leukemia or melanoma can transfer to a fetus, but that's not the case here. About one in a thousand women are diagnosed with cancer while pregnant. Of those, most survive, especially with an early diagnosis. There is mounting evidence – healthy, full-term babies – to suggest that even chemotherapy is safe, at least after thirteen weeks. I'm afraid that there's not been enough study done during the first trimester for me to allay your fears on that score, but we'll discuss options if today brings bad news." When Ana says nothing, he asks, "Ready to find out what we're dealing with?"

Somehow, the part of Ana's brain that is screaming "NO" doesn't get the panicked message to her lips. "May I please call my husband, first?"

* * *

Surreptitiously glancing at his muted phone, Christian sees that it's another message from Ana, and guesses that it's a diagnosis. "Excuse me, gentlemen, I need to take this."

Not even looking back to see how they feel about him walking out on the meeting, he slides the message open as he moves, to read, "Call me when u can."

Ana always – so far without fail – precedes such messages with a reminder that nothing is wrong, so his hands are trembling as he dials her number while instructing a confused Taylor, "We're leaving."

As if she's lost in a dark place, Ana answers, "Christian?"

Her timid greeting is enough to confirm his worst fears and he asks, "Tumor?"

He knows that he deserves her mistrust, but it still stings when she hesitates and then evades, "Not sure yet. They're running some tests."

Leaning his forehead against a metal column, the cold harshness of it reassuring him, Christian promises, "Baby, it's okay. I'm strong. This is yet another reason why I'll make a good father; I always hope for the best but plan for the worst. Right now only McKay knows more about headaches than I do."

He realizes that she's still unsure when Ana says only, "He said to call him Colin."

Silently cursing himself, because no one else is responsible for Ana currently feeling unable to lean on her husband in a time of crisis, Christian maintains control enough to calmly say, "Colin, then. Please, baby, let me take care of this. I won't let you down again. I'll be with you soon, and I _will_ be a source of comfort."

Finally, he hears the woman he loves in her voice when she breathes an audible sigh of relief and says, "If I really doubted that, we wouldn't be speaking. He wants to run a bunch of tests and do an MRI. I'm so scared, Christian. He says that the baby will most likely be okay, even if it's bad news, but…what if it's _really_ bad?"

Just the thought of it is enough that oblivion threatens, but Christian pushes it back with his fist, the pain immediately becoming an anchor for his sanity, and asks, "You still believe in that god of yours?"

"I do, though she remains strangely silent today."

Finally feeling good about himself, when he hears the humor in Ana's voice, Christian says, "You know that I don't. Nothing I've experienced in my life ever convinced me of a higher being with a benevolent plan…until you."

This time there are happy tears in Ana's voice when she eventually teases, "Are you telling me that you've done got religion?"

And then, miracle of miracles, he smiles. "Despite my name, no. I'm saying that, if you really are the gift from God that you seem, there exists no god cruel enough to take you from me when we've only just met."

His heart pounding, and mouth bone dry with fear that he's damaged her faith in him too much to be of any use to her, Christian only releases his breath when Ana gently promises, "Bastard."

Gasping his relief, he then says, "Thank you, baby. I'll be there real soon. In the meantime, imagine me holding your hand, because I very soon will be."

"Thank you. Should I wait for you?"

It's the final confirmation that she's again able to rely on him, and Christian doesn't let her down. "No, baby; not unless you really can't cope alone. We need answers, so we can work out what to do next. Just get started and I'll be there as quick as I safely can. I love you."

"You haven't said that since…oh, because I wasn't ready to hear it until now."

"Exactly. We'll be okay, baby, I promise."

"I believe you. We're not yet, though, because I feel weird about saying it back, sorry."

Mortified that she'd feel guilty about that, even as he's again stabbed with the knowledge that he almost destroyed her love for him, Christian says, "Hey, you haven't done anything wrong, remember?" Taylor is trying to catch his eye, so he concludes, "Time to go. I'm holding your hand."

"Get Taylor to look at it first."

"What?"

"I heard the thud, Christian. I'm not stupid. But I _do_ love you, and I'll see you not quite soon enough."

Marveling at the wonder that is his wife, Christian finally notices the smeared blood on his abused knuckles as he says "Very soon, my love," then finds the strength to hang up.

Proving yet again why he's in such a trusted position, Taylor merely says, "Doing preflight now. You have just enough time to make your apologies."

"Thanks." It had galled that the medication Flynn currently has him on means that Christian needed to hire a temporary pilot for Charlie Tango. But he's suddenly glad, because it will save precious minutes. Despite the fact that Taylor has not asked for details, when he must know something is wrong, Christian checks that they're still alone before finding the courage to voice his terror. "Ana may have cancer."

* * *

Having donated samples of various bodily fluids and answers to yet more questions, Ana is asked to change into one of those "sexy" hospital gowns. Eyeing the flimsy locker in the change room, she decides to instead trust Ryan with her brand new jewelry. Finally ready, and looking at the imposing MRI machine, she's asked the same questions again, and answers them as if it doesn't piss her off. When they get to the question about music, she hands over her iPod with the "Missing him" playlist chosen and says, "Thank you."

With the technician apparently satisfied, Ana is helped onto the narrow table and given final instructions; mainly amounting to, "Relax and keep still." Bulky headphones are put over her ears, and then she's alone, with nothing to look at but the inside of a narrow, plastic tunnel. Soon, the strains of Bach appear to fill the small room. Only seconds later, the music is replaced by the tech's voice. "How are you feeling, Mrs. Grey?"

"Scared, but okay."

"Then you'll be happy to know that you're completely normal. If you're ready, we'll begin."

"I'm ready."

The music is again playing as the loud percussions that Ana had been warned about reach her partly shielded ears. Not very disturbed by everything that's happening, except for a possibly life-threatening diagnosis after enduring all these impositions, her current biggest concern is that the sounds of the machine don't match the beat. Then they suddenly stop, signifying the end of the first run, and Christian's voice asks, "Missing me, baby?"

Somehow managing to keep from running to him, she sobs her relief and teases, "I never said that playlist was about you."

"Always with the smart mouth. They say I can talk to you, or you can listen to the music. Either way, you need to keep quiet and still."

As if there was ever any doubt, Ana says, "You, please."

So Christian calmly relates the details of his day, from the moment he left her side this morning. The machine finally stops humming and the tech says, "Just hang tight while I check everything, Mrs. Grey."

"Is there a problem?"

"No, ma'am. Just making sure that you don't have to go through this again."

"Thank you. Can my husband come in here?"

The sound of the door opening is answer enough and Christian is holding her hand, saying, "Nice outfit."

"Thanks. It's new." Nervously biting her lip, she then asks, "You okay?"

After a moment, she feels his warm lips on the back of her hand and his voice is heavy with emotion when he says, "You're incredible. I'm not the one with my head in a machine. I'm fine; just worried about _you_."

It's all the truth they need when Ana says, "I'm okay now you're here."

The sound of the door opening this time signals her freedom, and the technician waits until Ana is on her feet before saying to them both, "Your doctor will let you know the results."

Ana feels so proud of Christian when every inch of him silently expresses outrage at having to wait, but he merely says, "Thank you."

On their way, hand in hand, to the changing area, Ana says, "I'm surprised you didn't insist on knowing the results right now."

With a shrug, Christian reveals, "They're legally bound to refuse, because they're not qualified to make a diagnosis. They would only have called security if I insisted, and you don't need that sort of drama. You sure that you're okay? Can I get you anything?"

"Uh, Ryan has my jewelry; the aquamarine." Then smiling at the memory of waking to his gift, Ana says, "That was so sweet, thank you. Every time I got worried today, I just touched the pendant and it made me feel better."

His face lighting with a boyish grin, Christian says, "Good. I'm glad it helped. I felt awful leaving you this morning. But you need sleep, now more than ever. Did you eat lunch?"

"No, I'm sorry. It was too early when I left the office, and I've been shunted from one medical professional to the next since then."

Kissing her forehead, Christian says, "Don't be sorry. We'll get something while we wait for the results. Go, get changed. What room are you?"

"Two. Thank you." He's almost out of sight when Ana asks, "Are you dosed?"

Smiling, as if he hasn't always hated drugs, Christian says, "To the gills, baby. Why? Do I seem different?"

"Other than you're not climbing the walls with worry? You…I'm in a hospital gown."

Approaching and taking her in his arms, threatening the integrity of her thin, cotton gown with an idle caress, his teasing fingertips sending jolts of pleasure up and down her spine, he smilingly says, "Yes, you are." Then holding her close enough to leave no doubt of his arousal, Christian murmurs, "No pill strong enough to kill my desire for you, Mrs. Grey. But even _that_ is somewhat muted. So we'll have no trouble sticking to the plan."

For so many reasons, desperate to just lose herself in him, Ana says, "Surely circumstances have changed?"

With a grin, Christian says, "I knew you couldn't last the distance." Again kissing only her forehead, he turns her and, with a pat on her almost visible butt, instructs, "Get changed. I'll be right back."

Silently cursing John Flynn's efficiency, even as she acknowledges that the medication means Christian is coping very well with potentially disastrous news. Ana is almost ready when a knock on the door announces Christian, who reveals her jewelry in his palm and asks, "May I?"

Turning and holding her hair up out of the way, Ana wills her legs to do their job as Christian enters the cubicle and reaches around to replace the necklace, never once touching her skin, even when he fastens the clasp. Then putting his lips beside her ear, he whispers, "Distraction."

Biting her lip to stifle a moan, Ana leans back against him and breathes, "Bastard."

When Christian then slides his arms around to rest on her belly, even as he promises "Your bastard," she feels the difference in his embrace; he's including their baby in the gesture. It's too much for her, and she's silently weeping when he senses the change in her mood and turns her to face him, begging, "Please, baby, tell me what to do."

Pressing her face into his chest, she haltingly mumbles, "No. It's fine. You're doing it. That's the problem. You're perfect."

Christian laughs, the relaxed sound further soothing her shattered nerves, and says, "I'm not sure even you've accused me of that before. But I'm glad that you think so." Then gently pushing her back just a little, he wipes the moisture from her cheeks with his thumbs and cradles her face as he says, "I'm claiming today's kiss now."

Beaming her permission, Ana says, "Actually, I owe you two today."

Mirroring her delighted smile, Christian says "Even better," before tenderly reaffirming his love for her. Closing her eyes and giving herself up to the feelings this ancient gesture stirs within her, Ana has no idea how much time has passed when Christian finally and reluctantly drags his lips from hers to huskily suggest, "Time for lunch. There's a decent café within walking distance."

"But Colin…?"

"Will call us. Trust me, I was raised by a doctor; these things always take ages. We can eat, chat, flirt and pretend that nothing bad could ever happen to us."

Wondering how she can feel okay, just because he's here, Ana smiles and again says, "Perfect."

* * *

Author's note: Not sure I like Calm Christian, but I understand the necessity. Away from home (and internet) this weekend, so there might be a wait for the next installment. Thanks, for reading.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Of course, Ana and Christian don't quite manage to believe that she's invincible, but they do have a nice time over a very leisurely lunch, talking about everything except the reason why they're hovering near a medical clinic. They're each nursing a hot drink when Christian's phone rings. When he excuses himself to answer it, Ana knows that it can only be the clinic. The fact that they've called _him_, instead of her, confirms that he really is back in control. She hasn't had enough time to work out how she feels about it when he pockets the phone, after only a few seconds, and says, "When you're ready, McKay wants to see us."

Pushing aside her now lukewarm tea, Ana says, "I'm ready."

Christian is beside her in time to help her into the jacket. He again embraces her from behind, and again includes their baby in the gesture, kisses her cheek and whispers, "Together, whatever happens, okay?"

Managing not to cry, but only because a few people are staring at them; probably recognizing them but unsure what to do about it, Ana gulps, "Okay."

Her small hand is firmly clasped in his as they approach the receptionist, who "oddly" seems to have come to life since Christian arrived, and motions towards the consulting room, saying, "Please go right in."

Colin greets Christian and welcomes Ana, then motions for them to sit. Slightly less aloof than before, he reveals, "I'm afraid it _is_ bad news, but not catastrophic. You have a brain tumor, Mrs. Grey. However, there's quite a bit of good news: it's small, in an accessible position, is apparently contained and, if it is malignant, appears to be primary; no sign of cancer anywhere else, though we're still waiting on some of the test results." When they make no reaction, only waiting for more information, he quickly continues, "A colleague of mine – neuro-oncologist – has viewed the scans and is keen to assist. He, together with your obstetrician, will be able to answer all your questions and help you decide what to do next. Obviously, it's up to you, and you're welcome to get a second opinion, but I strongly recommend that we proceed without delay. Thankfully, the tumor is not very aggressive. But every day you wait increases the chances of potentially cancerous cells spreading to the rest of your brain."

Ana is still trying to process any of the words that followed "brain tumor" when Christian asks, "The oncologist?"

"Carl Renner. There are few better in all the country, and none nearby."

Christian nods and says, "I've heard of him. He'll recommend monitoring and chemotherapy?"

"I presume so, given the circumstances. But my strength lies in diagnosis, so I'd be guessing."

Finally summoning the will to speak, Ana asks, "But the baby will be okay?"

"Yes. As I expressed earlier, you're almost lucky in this situation; usually, this diagnosis isn't made until marked neurological symptoms begin presenting. The tumor appears non-infiltrative and is on the very edge of your brain. That's why it caused headaches, as it pressed against the nerves inside your skull, when you lay on your right side for any length of time, or were active enough to jolt it. Renner will almost certainly suggest regular MRIs, to monitor the tumors growth and, if it doesn't become aggressive, you should be able to limit treatment to mild-dose chemotherapy for several months, possibly even until after the baby is born; at which point you'll undergo surgery, radiotherapy and probably full-dose chemotherapy, depending on the results."

After a moment, Christian asks, "And what about the chemotherapy; how will that effect the baby?"

"As I explained to Mrs. Grey earlier, there's a very good chance that the baby won't be adversely affected, but there've not been definitive studies on the matter, as cancer during pregnancy is quite rare, particularly in the first trimester. Renner will explain all your options and help you decide on the best course of action. Obviously, if the tumor is malignant, the sooner you start treatment, the better. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. For today, I suggest you go home and think about your immediate options. If you decide to go with Renner, let me know soon, as he's highly in demand, but has expressed interest in your case." Handing over a folder, he adds, "This is everything I've just told you and more, a few warning signs to watch out for, and the names of other oncologists who are qualified to treat you. Please let me know one way or the other."

Despite his apparent calm, Ana can see the strain on Christian's face when he then looks to her. Wondering how long her heart can stand this strain, she squeezes his hand and nods. Copying the gesture, he then takes one deep breath and instructs Colin, "We'll go with Renner. Please copy Pamela Greene on everything as we proceed, and Dr. Grace Trevelyan-Grey at Seattle Children's…though give us an hour on that one."

"Your mother?" At Christian's nod, Colin jots down a note and says, "Right. I'll contact Renner." Glancing at his watch, he adds, "You may hear from his office today. If not, certainly first thing in the morning. Do you have any other questions for me at this stage? Unless we gain more information from the last of the tests I scheduled today, my part of the process is pretty much concluded, but I've of course some knowledge of what happens next."

He's looking at Ana, so she says, "Uh, no; tumor in brain, will slowly grow until baby is born, then surgeon will cut it out, and…oh, how long before we know if it's malignant?"

"Unless something shows up before then, we won't know for sure until a biopsy is taken when you have the surgery. There's no point putting you through the physical and emotional strain of a craniotomy while the tumor behaves itself." Gesturing to the file, Colin says, "There's also information on counseling and support groups. You both seem to be coping well, but this could be the most challenging thing you'll ever face in your marriage, so I recommend some sort of professional help."

When Christian says only "Under control," Ana almost giggles at the accuracy of the statement; his icy calm almost frightening, though she's grateful for it, as even the scream inside her head had quieted in response to his apparent mastery of the situation.

Thinking of something else, Ana asks, "Where is it?"

Colin comes around the desk and says, "May I?" At her nod, he gently angles Ana's head, so that Christian can see what he's doing and studies her skull for a second before touching the tip of his index finger to a site towards the back, upper right side of her head. "Right here, towards the back of your parietal lobe, almost where it intersects with the occipital lobe. Avoid sleeping on your right side and any very strenuous activity, especially anything that may result in head injury. You should be fine, at least for a while. Do keep an eye out for those neurological symptoms I mentioned earlier. It's all in your information, and Renner will go over that, too."

"Thank you." Then looking to Christian, Ana says, "I think I'd like to go home now."

Somehow managing to smile, Christian lifts her hand to his lips before saying, "You got it." To Colin, he says, "I presume there're forms to sign?"

Stepping aside, Colin says, "Yes, at the desk, if you would. I know this sounds bad. But try not to worry too much. You've done the right thing by seeking help early. I'm confident of a happy resolution, for all three of you. "

With Christian beside her, Ana manages to stay in control enough to avoid weeping as she thanks Colin and bids him farewell. Christian doesn't let go of her hand even when he shakes Colin's, nor when they walk to the desk; somehow managing to carry the folder under one arm even as they sign the forms. Without a word, they finally leave, this time with only Ryan accompanying them. When he's behind the wheel of Ana's car, he asks, "Where to?"

Christian merely says, "Home."

He's already scanning the information, still clutching her hand. Wondering how she can feel so…nothing, Ana asks, "Are you okay?"

Christian flashes a humorless grin and says, "Fine, baby. I just need to call Grace, then I'm all yours for the evening; anything you want."

Satisfied that he's coping all right, Ana adjusts her position so she can lean on his shoulder while holding his hand and says, "_This_ is what I want."

Christian kisses her forehead, even as he lifts the phone to his ear. This close to him, Ana hears Grace's voice say, "Christian! What a lovely surprise."

Ana feels Christian tense before he says, "I'm afraid not, Mother."

"What's wrong? Have you and Ana had a fight?"

Christian spits out a humorless laugh and says, "Yes, but that wasn't enough to warrant a phone call. We've a good news, bad news situation for you."

A pause and then, "Just tell me, sweetheart."

Taking a deep breath, Christian says, "It's not something I'm prepared to discuss over the phone. Are you able to meet us?"

There's a silence so profound it almost has sound, then Grace says only, "Where are you?"

Ana feels Christian relax at these words, and he says, "On our way to Escala."

"I'll be there in forty minutes."

When she's suddenly not on the phone anymore, Ana laughs. At Christian's confusion, she explains, "I thought only you did that, but it must be learned behavior."

Christian smiles and reveals, "Grace doesn't like goodbyes." Embracing her as best he can, he says, "Baby, if you're being brave, there's no need. I'm okay. You have no idea how reassuring it is to know that my obsession with your health may have saved your life."

Surprised, Ana realizes that he's right. Lifting her head enough to kiss his cheek, she then says, "So you did. Thank you." With a smile, she says, "I suppose that's Cautious Christian? And I really am okay. Mom is the one who likes to panic. You're helping a lot, thank you."

"Good. And, when all this is over, we're going to have a very long talk about your persistent tendency to keep things from me. I can't protect you if I don't have all the information."

"Darling, if we get through this, I think we'll call it lesson learned."

Not a trace of doubt in his voice, Christian commands, "_When_. I may not believe in prayer, but the power of positive thought is well documented."

With a nod, Ana amends, "_When_ we get through this. You're right. Just in case, I'll also be praying."

"Baby, considering the week we're having, I may join you."

They're soon at Escala; Christian finally relinquishing his grip on Ana's hand so that he can carry both their briefcases. Even then, he extends his elbow, so that she can maintain contact as they ride up to the apartment. Once there, he leads them towards their bedroom, saying, "You're not sleeping alone when you might have a seizure, or worse. Taylor's already moved your stuff back in."

Ana was going to ask for that consideration, so all she says is, "Thank you."

With only a nod, Christian then says, "For now, shower and change. I'll update Gail and Jason. Want me to call your parents? There's always the chance that the news could break, and you don't want them to find this out from a headline."

Ana hadn't even considered it and is stopped in her tracks as she says, "Oh, God. Mom is going to freak, and Dad will be so worried."

Again leading her onward, Christian says, "I'll call them. Want your Dad here? If Carla is prone to panic, she might not be the best influence until things settle down. But I don't imagine much phases Ray."

"No, please, I'll call them, and there's no point either of them being here while I'm feeling okay. I've got work anyway."

It's Christian's turn to be shocked into stillness and his voice is ice as he says, "You're not going to work. You have a brain tumor."

Knowing that tone _very_ well, Ana sighs and attempts, "Which I've evidently had for the duration of my admittedly short career; probably since well before we met."

She knows that Christian apparent newfound confidence is a sham when several emotions flicker over his face before he looks afraid and more gently says, "You're also supposed to avoid stress, for the baby's sake, if not for your own."

"And you think that sitting around the apartment, wondering whether or not I have cancer, will be less stressful than editing manuscripts?" She immediately regrets her choice of words, when Christian flinches, as if she'd struck him, on hearing the word "cancer" from her lips. "I'm sorry, darling, but there's no point me being home while I'm able to work. I'll be sensible and immediately take some leave if my condition worsens, or the pregnancy is taking a toll on my energy levels, I promise."

And then she wonders how he can be so brave, when Christian draws himself up to his full height and declares, "We'll discuss this later. For now, freshen up and call your parents. I'll meet you in the living room."

Gratefully accepting her briefcase from him at the door, Ana then adds, "Thank you, for today; getting there in time to help me through the MRI and…you've been my rock today. I would have been a mess without you by my side."

Only love in his voice, Christian counters, "No, you wouldn't. You'd have coped. But it is truly my privilege to be of any use to you, Anastasia."

Her eyes already misting, Ana gently pushes him as she says, "You'd better go, before I dissolve into a grateful, weepy puddle."

Apparently even brave enough to summon a dazzling smile, Christian says, "Well, we wouldn't want that. Don't be too long, or I'll be forced to worry about you."

When he leans in to kiss her cheek, Ana intercepts him with her lips, and the familiar heat spreads through her body when Christian moans and takes control of the gesture, as if he honestly has no choice. Ana is dimly aware of the thud as his briefcase hits the floor, and then she's in his arms, lost in the heady sensation of his reclamation of her body, from lips to toes; a brushfire of passion coursing through her.

Time means nothing while they're lost in each other like this, so Ana has no idea how long it is before Christian lifts his mouth from hers to gently kiss her forehead and then rest his head there. Then his broad hands find her shoulders and clench them almost painfully, as if he's trying to physically force some space between them, but cannot summon the strength. His breath ragged, he groans, "Grace will be here any minute."

Not for the first time, Ana marvels at how her body knew the truth before she did; she's no longer afraid of him. With no trace remaining of that gut-wrenching fear of further hurt that's haunted her since his outburst on Monday evening, her smile is serene when she promises, "Later."

It's enough that Christian is able to huskily agree "Later," and gently squeeze her shoulders before releasing her and turning on his heel to leave.

Smiling, Ana lifts his briefcase and says, "Uh, darling?"

Blushing slightly, Christian takes the case as he says, "Right. Thanks." Suddenly grinning like a little boy, he steals another kiss and says, "Welcome back, Mrs. Grey."

With a mock curtsy, Ana says, "Thank you, Mr. Grey. I missed us."

Passion flares in Christian's eyes at this confirmation that they're again okay, and he says, "You'd better go, before I can't let you."

Knowing full well what effect it will have on him, Ana nevertheless trusts him to be strong enough to let her walk away when she enters the bedroom saying, "Yes, Sir."

Only a little surprised at his audacity, she doesn't even look around when his palm connects resoundingly with her backside, because she knows that he will already be gone. Dumping her case, and then her clothes, she heads to the shower; there to let the forceful hot water wash away any vestige of emotional pain still clinging to her. It's not enough to erase her concern about the baby or the tumor – both growing inside her – but does get her through the phone calls with her parents. Even Bob insists on speaking with her, to offer his congratulations and commiserations. She's genuinely grateful to him when he concludes, "Just look after yourself, sweetheart, okay? I'll take care of your Mom."

Not that he's ever done anything to upset her, but it's the closest she's ever felt to Carla's current husband and Ana means every word when she says, "Thank you. It helps a lot knowing that she has you."

When Ana breaks her good/bad news to Ray, he's less tractable, insisting, "I'll be there by tomorrow evening."

"Dad, there's no point. I'm currently well enough to work, so you'll just be bored and restless. I'll keep in touch and let you know how things are going, I promise." When this plea is met with stubborn silence, she begs, "Please, Dad. I'm okay; just headaches if I sleep on my right side. Christian is being wonderfully supportive, and his concern for my wellbeing is the very reason that the news isn't worse. He'll take good care of me, and you know that we can afford the best medical attention."

Finally, Ray says, "All right, Annie. But that man better look after you and my grandchild, or I won't be responsible for my actions."

She can hear the peace in his friendly threat, so Ana relaxes a little and says, "I'll warn him. Thanks, Dad. I love you."

Suddenly sounding smaller, Ray says, "I love you too, sweetie. Just be well, okay?"

Too much emotion almost stopping her voice, Ana squeaks, "Okay."

After permitting herself the luxury of a cathartic cry, she repairs her appearance and heads to the living room. Christian and Grace are so engrossed in something on his computer that they don't at first notice her enter. Then Grace looks up and smiles as if she's been waiting only for her daughter-in-law's presence to make everything in her life seem worthwhile. So Ana is already bathed in a warm glow when the older woman approaches and enfolds her in loving arms as she says, "Ana! Ana; you wonderful, miraculous girl."

A little bewildered, as she'd assumed they were looking at information about her tumor, Ana looks to Christian for an explanation. With an indulgent smile, he says, "You may not be shocked to learn that my mother has a tendency to focus on good news."

Finally releasing Ana, Grace says, "I don't want you to worry, Ana. If I had to have a brain tumor, this is the one I'd want. The progress has been so slow that it's almost certainly no more than a grade two, which is entirely treatable even without risking bombarding the baby with radiation."

"How many grades are there?"

"Four. Two is considered low-grade, and it may well be grade one; completely benign, though I agree that chemotherapy is a good idea, just in case. Without the contrast agent, it's difficult to see just how diffuse it is, so we need to assume the worst; that some cancerous cells may have infiltrated the rest of your brain. But even that isn't too bad at this early stage."

Christian chimes in with, "I've spoken to Carl Renner. He'll see us first thing in the morning to set up a treatment plan." When Ana holds a fingertip to her left temple, his brow furrows and he asks, "Ana? Baby, are you okay? Is it another headache?"

Eyeing Ana, Grace observes, "That's not the tumor, son. Your wife is stressed and tired, probably dehydrated, too." Putting an arm around Ana's shoulders, she faces Christian and continues, "As a medical professional, I prescribe a cup of weak tea and a quiet evening. Nothing further needs to be done tonight."

Suitably chastened, Christian ducks his head and says, "Yes, Mother. I'll remember, I promise."

Apparently satisfied, Grace tells Ana, "I've absolutely prohibited him from bullying you. If he gives you any trouble, call me, okay?"

With a nervous glance at a now silently fuming Christian, Ana says, "Uh, okay. I'll do that. Thank you."

Again embracing her, Grace is clearly on the verge of tears when she says, "No, thank _you_, darling girl. It seems that the blessings you bring to this family are infinite. I'll try and limit Carrick to a phone call, but I'm afraid he'll insist on congratulating you in person very soon."

Imagining Carrick's joy on finding out that he's to become a grandfather, Ana pushes aside any fear that it might not eventuate and says, "I'd like that, thank you."

True to her word, Grace leaves soon after that, again almost crushing Ana in an embrace. Still obviously uncertain with how much affection to show Christian, she hesitates a moment, in which he awkwardly hugs her, saying, "I'll call you tomorrow. Thank you."

Stepping back when he releases her, she then cradles his face and he obligingly bends down so she can kiss his forehead and say, "Take care of yourself, too, okay?"

Christian rolls his eyes and says, "Yes, Mom."

One last squeeze of Ana's hand and she's gone. They're both staring at the elevator when Ana teases, "I think Grace should move in with us."

Christian throws a mock glare her way and says, "No fucking way. It's bad enough that I can't make my wife obey me, without having my mother nagging me all day. I'd sooner cut off my balls with a rusty steak knife."

When his gaze then darkens and he approaches as if herding prey, Ana ignores the answering passion in her body to caution, "Christian, when I said 'later', I meant…"

Crowding her, forcing her back against the wall, he says, "Oh, I'm content to wait, but I'd very much like to discuss this work issue."

Everything in her desperate for closer contact, Ana tries in vain to regulate her breathing as she protests, "Grace said no bullying. But I'm quite prepared to discuss it after that cup of tea."

His expression immediately changes to one of concern, and he says, "Deal. And, considering how I'm feeling right now, it must be time for my medication."

"How _are_ you feeling?" When he merely smirks and arches one eyebrow, Ana quickly adds, "I mean, about everything; the baby, my tumor?"

Taking Ana's hand and leading her towards the kitchen, Christian says, "Actually, surprisingly good after talking to Mom and Renner. She says that he's brilliant, by the way. And I'm certainly impressed after speaking with him. He understands that we're not prepared to consider termination unless it's an emergency, so I'm confident that he'll be what we need." Her sudden immobility haven't brought them to a stop, he turns his confused gaze on her and asks, "Ana?"

Feeling as if her heart is actually glowing with happiness, she echoes, "Not prepared to consider termination."

A shadow of remorse in his eyes, Christian takes Ana in his arms and says, "Unless your life was in immediate danger, no. I'm…fuck, you said no apologies, but I am irretrievably ashamed of how I reacted to the news that we're going to be parents. I want this too, very much. I think I've always wanted it. And I haven't forgotten your plan. By the time our son or daughter is born I _will_ be ready. I swear to you." Suddenly lifting up a shocked Ana high enough that his face is level with her belly, he adds "Both of you," before replacing her on the floor and steadying her when she wobbles.

"Are you going to do _that_ very often?"

Christian laughs and says, "I don't imagine so. But I'm feeling incredibly optimistic right now." At her obvious confusion, he explains, "I told you; plan for the worst. I'd actually envisioned much worse when I made that appointment for you with McKay."

"Like what?"

His expression suddenly closed to her, Christian says, "Let's just leave it at 'worse', okay?"

When he then again takes her hand, Ana says, "Wait. If you're feeling strong, could we…I dunno if you need to check with Flynn. But could we maybe skip the drugs, just for this evening?"

Clearly confused, Christian says, "I thought you liked me calm?"

Adamantly shaking her head, Ana says, "Not at all. I _needed_ you calm today; totally different thing. But I'm okay now…we're okay now, so I want _my_ Christian back."

Considering for a moment, Christian slowly nods, saying, "Okay, baby. And I don't need to check with Flynn. These things are fast-acting and work for only a few hours. He recommended that I take one any time I'm feeling panicked or might be entering a stressful situation."

He guides them to the kitchen and Ana onto a barstool, then sets about making the drinks for them. With the kettle boiling as the soundtrack, he leans across the counter, grins and says, "_Your_ Christian, huh? The playful, angry one?"

Vigorously nodding her head, Ana can't help but smile at his mood and say, "Uh, huh. I love him."

One eyebrow raised, Christian asks, "Lust him a little bit, too?"

Now shaking her head, still smiling, she says, "Uh, uh; a lot. I haven't had sex in forever."

Crooking his finger to bring her closer, Christian tenderly kisses her and asks, "So, you don't want me completely different; just the stuff that would make me a shitty father?"

Only now realizing that Christian would have actually stuck with her plan and slept in the same bed as her for the duration, without having sex, she sobers and says, "Yes. Anything else I asked for was just…you hurt me, Christian." Seeing an answering pain in his eyes, she knows that he understands how much, and continues, "But I don't feel that anymore. I trust you, and I love you, and I currently want you so much that my legs are trembling."

His face only inches from hers, Ana can practically see the thoughts pass through his mind as he considers all his options, then Christian says, "All right. You can go to work. But you will _never_ be more than ten feet from one of our team, and you will – if you have any compassion at all – tell me about any new symptoms, okay?"

It's better than she'd expected, so Ana doesn't hesitate to say, "Okay."

"Right now you'll drink your tea and study up on said symptoms, so you can keep your promise. Then I'm going to take you to bed and fuck you, because you're not the only one trembling with need in this kitchen."

This one definitely wasn't a question, so Ana smiles and promises, "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Author's note: Research for this one, rather ironically, gave me a headache. I've tried to make sure I know what I'm talking about, then translate it back into layman's terms. Let me know if you're having trouble following what's going on with their ongoing medical drama.

Oh, not that she reads this, but thanks to Mobabe for so politely refusing this plot line when I had decided to ditch it for something more canon. She was so nice about it that I decided to use it after all. Also means that, if you don't like the idea of Ana having a tumor, blame Monique;-)

The cutesy ending is for anisurnois; how could I resist my favorite author begging me to make it a nicer bedtime story?


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-one

Ana puts her mug of tea down on the coffee table, that small movement enough to waken Christian's computer screen. Displayed is what looks like an x-ray of someone's head. When she looks to him for conformation, he nods and says, "Your MRI scan. McKay sent it to Grace already. Are you okay looking at it?"

"I guess so. And it's probably a good idea, because the whole 'brain tumor' thing doesn't quite seem real yet."

When Christian sits on the sofa and puts a cushion between his feet, Ana looks at him in surprise. Rolling his eyes, he says, "For your butt, sweetheart, not your knees. Though I like the way you're thinking."

Ana giggles and says, "Oh, right. Thank you."

Surrounded by the comfort of her husband – his face beside hers with one hand outstretched to operate the keypad and point things out where necessary – Ana sips her tea and gets a rare inside view of her brain. Suddenly struck by the similarities, she mumbles, "Two blips."

"Sorry?"

Blushing, worried that he'll think it's silly, she explains, "The baby; I call him Little Blip. And I just realized the tumor looks pretty similar…two blips."

Anger evident in his voice, Christian says, "Except that one we want and one we don't."

Worried about the vehemence of his response, Ana puts the now empty cup aside, shrugs and says, "They're both part of me for now. I'm not going to waste my time hating my own cells, no matter how they're behaving."

Christian is quiet for a while, and then says, "You're probably right. I've been thinking of this tumor as something that's happening _to_ you. But it's actually happening _in_ you, isn't it? And hating it isn't going to help either of us relax. All right, baby. But we need a different name for each. I'm not having my heir sharing a name with a potentially cancerous growth."

Her heart pounding, Ana points out, "You used the "C" word."

After a moment, Christian says, "Not really; I added 'ous' to it. But, yes, I'm…Mom helped me realize that it's not the end of the world. People survive this every day, and you _will_ be one of them."

Smiling with pride at his courage, Ana says, "Yes, Sir."

Lifting her chin and thoroughly kissing her, Christian then tenderly scolds, "And cut that shit out. We haven't finished, and I've not fucked my wife in a _very_ long time. So you're playing with fire, baby."

Her body alight with desire, Ana pleads, "Well, can't we fuck and then do my homework?"

Looking up at him, Ana can see Christian is wavering, passion evident in his gaze. But then he uses the gentle grip on her chin to point her face at the computer as he says, "No. First of all, when I get my hands on your body, the evening will effectively be over; we haven't yet had dinner and you need to watch your diet. Secondly, you need to know this stuff right now, because we don't know when the tumor might reach a size that causes problems. Just being pregnant may lead its growth rate to accelerate." Reaching for the folder McKay gave them, he puts a sheet of paper in Ana's hands and says, "When you've learned these, I'll ask Gail to serve dinner. We'll eat and _then_ I'll fuck you."

"Oh, Dr. Greene…did you say her name is Pamela? She said that we can still play, but to avoid situations where I'm in a lot of fear or pain, because my body might get too stressed. I'm not sure what this tumor means for our sex life."

Effectively wrapped in Christian, Ana can actually feel his discomfort before he reveals, "Mom says we're good to go; just to make sure that my bonds are escapable in case you black out or have a seizure."

One hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter at the thought of Christian again discussing kink with his mother, Ana composes herself enough to ask, "_Your_ bonds?"

His voice low, Christian pouts, "I didn't fucking ask her about this stuff…doubt I ever will. She just suddenly blurted it out when we were looking at all the information."

Laughter only seconds away, Ana asks, "What did you say?"

"What _could_ I say?" Affecting a pompous tone, Christian suggests the scenario, "Actually, your son doesn't much care for being tied up, preferring instead to bind his young, nubile wife before he spanks her and vigorously fucks her." Then shrugging, he explains, "Once I recovered the ability to speak, I mumbled a thanks and we moved on. We couldn't even fucking look at each other for several minutes."

It's too much, and Ana is lost to raucous laughter, not even stopping when Christian puts a hand over her mouth in a playful effort to stop her. Suddenly, she's on her back and he's kissing her hard enough to almost hurt, even as his hand finds a way under her sweater to enclose one breast; the nipple already peaked in readiness for him. He groans and pulls back enough to appreciatively mutter, "No bra." Then shaking his head in wonder, his thumb almost casually flicking across her pebbled nipple until Ana is mad with need, he says, "God, woman, what you do to me."

This close to him losing all control, Ana knows very well that he might still refuse her, so she desperately scans her memory for something that might tip him over the edge. In the end she finds the perfect words when she relaxes in his arms, awaiting his decision. Christian studies her for a moment longer, his hand now on her midriff, and asks, "You sure about this?"

Suddenly, it's all so clear to Ana; he loses control because she likes it. She doesn't like it all the time, of course. Not when she told him about the baby. And she sort of knew this about herself. The fact that playful/angry Christian is her favorite suggested it, but she didn't realize how much. Christian is still keenly studying her, waiting for her reply. All she can think to say is, "I like it that you can't keep your hands of me."

Christian laughs and says, "I've noticed. But that's not what you were just thinking."

"Actually, it was. Can I get up?"

Immediately moving off her, Christian helps Ana onto the sofa and sits beside her as he asks, "Okay, baby?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I just realized that I've been making things worse. When we're like this, and you express a desire to wait before we make love, I deliberately provoke you, so that…"

"Not your fault, baby. I want you so bad sometimes that I can't see straight. And I like it that way, because you like it."

"Well, that's kind of my point. Before you met me, everything was about control, right? If you could control even your sexual urges, then your symptoms were manageable?"

"Yes, but it wasn't really…I was barely alive when I met you, baby. I told you; what we have is so much better that it almost doesn't compare with my relationships before you."

Wondering how to express something she's working out as she speaks, Ana eventually says, "I think you losing control during foreplay isn't helping with your anxiety. So I'm going to stop provoking you…I mean when you've said you want to wait, anyway." When Christian looks utterly bewildered, she asks, "What?"

"Are you trying to seduce me now?"

"What? No; not deliberately. Why?"

Christian laughs again and says, "Why? You just told me that you're giving me control even when you're horny as hell. You do understand why that's an incredible turn-on for me, right?"

Ana also laughs and says, "Oh, I see what you mean. So, you're okay with this? Do you think I'm right?"

"You might be. Flynn says we can train our brain; that I've effectively been doing that most of my life. So it's possible that being in control even of your passion might help me with my temper and anxiety. I worry…now that I've finally found a reason to get over my hatred of medication, I'm worried that I'll be dependent on them forever." With a shrug, he continues, "Flynn says it's unlikely. His plan is to get me through the memory regressions and then rely on other techniques to help with the rest of my symptoms. But there's still that fear. I don't want to feel _not_ me for the rest of my life."

Genuinely horrified at the thought, Ana quietly says, "I wouldn't like that, either." With a sudden grin, she asks, "Can we fuck now?"

His eyes sparkling with good humor, Christian says, "No." Lifting her in his arms and placing her back on the cushion, he instructs, "Do your fucking homework."

Ana giggles and quotes, "Mmm…fucking homework."

Kissing the site of her tumor, Christian says, "Stop stalling. Hey, what about 'Smart Mouth' as a name? That way we'd be rid of it when they do the surgery."

Surprised and pleased that he's able to discuss something that must be terrifying for him, Ana says only, "Christian, you love my smart mouth."

Again tilting her face, so that he can kiss her, Christian then says, "You got me." Placing the page of symptoms in her hands, he adds, "When you think you've memorized them I'll quiz you."

Remembering that the sooner she finishes, the sooner they'll make love, Ana sets about her task. As she does so, Christian's strong hands start massaging all the tension from her shoulders, and she offers a grateful, "Mmm…good, thank you."

Of course, with such a comfortable environment, and the promise of sex if she gets it right, Ana soon learns the warning signs; tingling or numbness in her left arm, vision and/or speech problems, worsening headaches, and more. When he's satisfied, Christian asks, "Hungry?"

Surprised, given that they had a very late lunch, Ana says, "Yes."

Beaming his pleasure, Christian says, "Good. Because dinner is served."

Of course, the food is delicious. Between bites, Ana asks, "Are Gail and Jason hiding? I haven't seen them at all."

"I figured you didn't need them hovering and treating you like an invalid tonight." At her raised eyebrow, he says, "Exactly; _my_ job."

Ana offers him a genuine smile and says, "Actually, I'm once again having more fun than I would have thought possible, thank you."

Christian smiles his pleasure at this and is quiet for a while, then asks, "So, we're okay?"

Ana understands that he's not just fishing for reassurance, so she gives it some thought and says, "I think so. If I dwell on how I felt after you stormed out the other night, I start to feel an echo of that pain. But, of course, I understand why you couldn't have behaved any other way, so I never really felt angry with you over that, just…well, hurt, as you said. But I know you'd cut off your right arm before doing that again."

Apparently in earnest, Christian says, "Yes, I would."

Smiling, Ana says, "Thankfully, not necessary. And I happen to be very fond of your right arm…and the hand attached to it."

"And the fingers, too?"

Just the thought of what Christian can do with his fingers means that Ana is back to horny as hell. Remembering her earlier promise, she pushes aside what's left of her meal and says, "I'm not hungry anymore."

Recognizing the flush of desire on her skin, Christian grins and leers, "I think you are, baby."

Understanding that he's speaking of a different sort of hunger, Ana groans and says, "Are you going to torture me because I've given up even more control?"

Smoothly rising to his feet and coming around the table to help Ana from her chair, Christian says, "No, baby, I'm going to fuck you."

Taking her hand, Christian leads them to their room. There, he wordlessly helps Ana from her clothes; only then asking, "Okay?"

At first confused, Ana realizes that he's still concerned about her tumor, so she says, "Other than I can barely stand for how much I want you right now, yes. I'm fine."

Smiling, Christian loosens his tie a little and then drops his hands to his sides. Taking the hint, a delighted and naked Ana first removes his tie and drapes it around her neck, prompting him to comment, for the second time today, "Nice outfit."

Ana only smiles, intent on her task. When they're both naked, she awaits a sign from Christian how he'd like to proceed, only then noticing that, though his body is well and truly ready for her, his expression is one of concern. So she knows that, despite his bravado, he's still very worried about her. Confident that he'll eventually get past this new fear of hurting her, she pulls back the bed covers and instructs, "Lie down, dick up."

It's the right tone, because Christian chuckles at her choice of words and says "Yes, ma'am," as he complies. Without a word, Ana straddles Christian and lowers herself onto him, prompting a long, drawn-out sigh of pleasure from both of them; the ease of the move confirming how much she'd been looking forward to exactly this, and he teases, "Just as well I didn't go down on you; we might have needed the Coastguard."

Past even the point of embarrassment, the delicious feel of him inside her driving her almost to orgasm already, Ana leans back, brazenly offering her body as she protests, "You talk too much, Mr. Grey."

So there are no more words as he, with trembling hands, reacquaints himself with her body, until they're both driven to the point of madness and back again. His tie, that silver symbol of his need to control her, falls unnoticed into the floor as Ana and Christian, just for a little while, manage to forget that life could be anything other than this perfect.

In the warm afterglow, facing each other, still unable to keep their hands from gently roaming over familiar curves, avoiding the erogenous zones by unspoken mutual consent, Christian comments, "Just as well you're on your left side when we're in bed."

With an indulgent smile, Ana points out, "Except that we might have found out even earlier about the tumor if I was mostly on my right."

"Oh, of course." Gently caressing the site of her tumor, pushing aside her hair as if he can see into her skull, Christian continues, "I'm still having trouble believing it, even as the whole thing terrifies me."

Immediately concerned, Ana asks, "But you're okay talking about it?"

With a shrug, Christian says, "So far, so good. I'm sure there are hard times ahead. But I'm not going to panic again. I _can't_ do that to you again…to us. But, still, it might be better to ease into conversations that you know will freak me out."

"Well, that's exactly why I was rehearsing in front of the mirror on Monday, but you ambushed me."

Christian breathes a small laugh and says, "Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. We've still got so much to learn about each other, haven't we?"

With a ready smile, Ana says, "Yes, but I'm mostly enjoying the lessons, even the challenging ones."

Drawing Ana closer for a kiss, they both then settle into the entwined embrace that they'd become used to enjoying every night and he says, "I know it's only been a couple of nights, but I've missed this…maybe even more than the sex."

Ana giggles and says, "That's not what you said a few minutes ago when you screamed my name."

His fingers teasing at her ticklish ribs, he lies, "I did no such thing."

Still laughing, Ana says, "My mistake."

They're quiet for a while, then Christian gently asks, "What was your vision? The one of me and our son?"

Ana smiles against his chest and says, "He was soaring. He's maybe two or three and you're holding him by the back of his jacket, your other hand under his belly and spinning around. He's got his arms out, like a plane, and such a smile on his face, Christian…he's incredibly happy."

His voice barely audible, Christian nervously asks, "He's not afraid?"

Lifting her head, so that her husband will know how sincere she is, Ana says, "Darling, his father is Christian Grey; I doubt he's afraid of anything."

Too moved at first to speak, Christian eventually manages a weak smile and says, "I'm going to cry when our baby is born, aren't I?"

Getting ready to protect her ticklish ribs, Ana teases, "Probably. You are well known for being a crybaby."

Christian accepts it in good humor, merely shrugging and saying, "Well, I've had a lot of practice coping with too much sorrow. Only since meeting you have I had to learn how to cope with too much happiness."

Having guessed what he was about to say, Ana can feel the moisture on her cheeks as he finishes, and she complains, "Bastard."

First kissing her tears away, then again kissing the tumor, and finally their baby, Christian shuffles until they're both comfortable and softly commands, "Sleep, all of you. More happy tears tomorrow, I promise."

* * *

Ana wakes in the middle of the night, gasping for air. A few seconds later she remembers why; the nightmare about her stillborn baby's tiny body covered in tumors. Her head and heart pounding, she turns over, only to find that she's yet again alone in their bed. Desperate for comfort, she dons her robe and goes looking for her husband. She finds him in the living room, fast asleep on the sofa; his computer still whirring away. Not that she means to read it; as always instinctively wishing to respect Christian's privacy. But seeing the heading "To my son…or daughter if your mother is wrong," removes the choice from her.

_Your mother won't let me apologize, because she honestly believes that I couldn't help behaving so badly. I, however, don't have her talent for forgiveness, and the guilt is going to torture me forever unless I get this off my chest. I'm so sorry, beyond my ability to express it, for how I reacted on hearing that you are to join us. Please don't think it's because I don't want to be your father. When you're older, you'll understand that some things we want so bad that they become akin to fantasy or myth…as if finally getting what we want above all else has become an impossibility…a dream, that we can never hope to achieve. And then, the greatest tragedy; if we're suddenly offered our dream, it's after we've finally managed to convince ourselves that we never really wanted it in the first place, because that's the only way to cope with being denied your heart's desire…certainly the only way I know. For reasons that, I hope, I'll one day be brave enough to explain, I'd never really let myself dare to believe that I could be lucky enough to have a family. But your mother's love, another thing I never dared wish for, has made that possible for me. All you need to know about her is contained in the fact that she loved you on learning of your existence. Anyway, that's why I reacted so badly, hurting your mother and momentarily denying you. Plus, there's the fact that I'm terrified of not being good enough for you. But your mother says I am, and she's the wisest person I know. So I'm going to do my very best to help you become who you are born to be._

_Your father,_

_Christian Grey_

Again weeping, the tears rolling unheeded down her face, Ana closes the lid, struck by how symbolic it feels; as if she's closing a chapter in their lives, and she wonders what's changed. Then wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she joins Christian on the sofa. He stirs, realizes what's going on, and shuffles over to give her room. Automatically enfolding her in his arms, he asks, "Okay, baby?"

Suddenly unafraid, of anything, Ana means so much more when she simply says, "I am now."

* * *

Author's note: Want to name the tumor? There shall be a prize for my favorite...unfortunately it will amount to nothing more than credit here.

Thanks, again, to my Guest reviewers, especially the one who expressed outraged surprise that I don't get more reviews. Given that I both read and reply where possible, I'm not sure my brain can cope with much more. But I comprehend and appreciate the sincere compliment, thank you.

And, OMG, Mobabe commented on my story! She insists that it ain't nothin'. But, if you've read her incredible contribution to FSoG fanficdom, you'll understand why that was a big deal for me:-)


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-two

When Ana next wakes, she's being carried. Instinctively recognizing Christian, she automatically snuggles closer to his t-shirted chest and mumbles, "I'm sorry."

Kissing the top of her hair, Christian says, "It's okay, baby. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. I'm glad you woke me."

"No, I'm sorry for not trusting you."

As they enter the bedroom, he asks, "Are you awake, baby?"

Fatigue dragging at her, Ana manages, "Uh, huh."

Putting Ana gently on her feet, he removes her robe and pulls back the bed covers, motioning that she should get in, then tucks her in as he says, "Sleep now. We'll discuss this in the morning."

Too sleepy to consider the effect it might have on him, Ana says, "I had a nightmare and you weren't here."

Christian cringes at the unintentional accusation and says, "I'm sorry, baby. I couldn't sleep. I'll make sure I've got something in here to do in case that happens again."

As he moves around to his side of the bed and joins her, Ana confesses, "I saw your apology."

Tensing, Christian says, "You weren't meant to."

Moving into his arms, grateful that he readily accepts her, Ana says, "I know. I'm sorry. You made me cry again."

"Happy tears?"

"Happy, ecstatic, relieved, grateful, proud…you're amazing."

Finally relaxing, Christian asks, "I am?"

Reassured by his amused tone, Ana says, "Uh, huh. Most of the time I have to fight the urge to just bow down to you."

Christian chuckles and says, "Okay, now I _know_ you're not really awake, because you appear to fight that urge extremely well."

Lifting her head to look at him, Ana says, "No, it's true. I told you; people don't realize what a struggle you overcome every single day. I'm proud to be your wife."

Obviously still uncomfortable with praise, even from Ana, Christian squirms and says, "Even though I'm almost certainly going to fuck up again at some point?"

"Even so. I get things wrong, too. I think you mostly don't notice that, because you still spend too much time hating yourself. I'm awake now. Can we talk about the fact that I've been failing to trust you?"

She can see that he's curious. But Christian eventually says, "No. You need sleep. We'll have some time before our appointment with Renner. Just close your eyes."

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

Already caressing those calming circles on her back, nature's sedative, Christian promises, "I will."

* * *

It's morning when Ana next opens her eyes, to see Christian sitting up in bed, furiously but quietly tapping away at his Blackberry with both thumbs. Stretching the sleep from her limbs, cautiously enough not to jostle her uneasy stomach, she says, "You're working already, aren't you?"

Barely glancing at her, he tersely reveals, "In a manner of speaking. About ninety minutes before we have to leave." Then concluding whatever he was doing, Christian puts the phone aside and more cheerfully says, "Morning, baby. How are you feeling?"

"Nauseous, but no headache or any other symptoms."

Christian practically leaps out of bed and comes around to her side, sliding the water and crackers closer as he says, "The bar fridge will be in here by this evening. There wasn't enough time to transfer it last night."

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but could you please not move so fast? You're making it worse."

Christian chuckles and says, "Sorry, baby. I guess I'm still trying to make up for being an ass."

Then remembering his written apology to their unborn child, Ana understands that he honestly needs to make amends, and her misguided compassion had denied him that relief; effectively punishing him when she'd resolved not to, so she grins and says, "Think your guilt might extend to fetching my breakfast?"

Clearly pleased with the idea, Christian smiles his gratitude and says, "Absolutely. The oatmeal working for you?"

"Yes, thank you."

Leaning closer for a kiss, Christian then straightens and says, "I'll eat in the kitchen. My research indicates that even the smell of some foods will make you feel worse. We can test which ones when we've got more time."

"Okay. Thank you."

Confident that his attentiveness will gradually lessen as his guilt eases, Ana is nevertheless glad for some alone time. After visiting the bathroom, and spending too long deciding which outfit is appropriate for someone's first visit to an oncologist, she's back in bed when Christian returns with the breakfast tray. After making sure that she's comfortable, he asks, "Need anything else?"

Reaching out a hand to touch the single, red rose, not an addition that Gail has ever bothered with, Ana sincerely says, "No. Thank you. I have everything I need."

Satisfied with that reaction, Christian smiles and again kisses her, then says, "I'm gonna work out for a bit." Suddenly appearing nervous, he reveals a small device attached to a neck strap, about the size of a large key remote, and asks, "You know what this is?"

"A panic button? I really don't think that's necessary, darling. I feel fine."

"_Now_; yes. But the tumor will get bigger, and not even Renner will be able to tell us exactly what new symptoms will first appear. You might have a stroke or seizure; fall and be unable to get up. You won't have to wear it outside, as you've agreed to keep one of our team nearby at all times. But this is a big apartment, and our house is even bigger. I don't want to one day enter the library to find a copy of _Great Expectations_ beside your unconscious body."

Guessing what an effort it is for Christian to appear jovial when contemplating such a scenario, Ana smiles and jokes, "You don't have one; your library is almost exclusively of American authors." Putting the tray aside and patting the bed beside her, she continues, "I need to talk to you."

"Your oatmeal."

"Is still steaming. Please, Christian. It won't take very long." When he sits down, Ana asks, "Remember last night when I apologized for not trusting you?"

"I'm surprised you do. But, yes."

When he then only waits for an explanation, Ana takes a deep breath and then says, "I'm going to tell you what I need. Try not to feel this as pressure, because it really has nothing to do with you, other than to set up the rest of the conversation, okay?"

Immediately wary, Christian swallows and agrees, "Okay."

"I need to know that, if this baby is born with any defects, it was an act of God and therefore unavoidable, not because either of us fucked up. If I was in this alone, I'd gladly give my life to ensure they're born healthy, but I'm not alone, and I couldn't do that to you." At the first scary hurdle in this new aspect of her plan, Ana again needs a breath before continuing, "So I'll settle for _risking_ my life. Can you cope with this?"

His eyes wide with fear, Christian gives it serious thought and then says, "You're talking about medication. You want to delay the chemo."

"I've not yet got that specific, because I don't have enough information. But along those lines, yes."

"Fuck. Give me a minute." Leaning forward to put his head in his hands,Christian stays like that for quite a while – his body heaving as he apparently struggles to get enough oxygen – then clenches fistfuls of his hair for a few seconds, and finally sits up to weakly promise, "Okay."

Resisting the urge to offer the comfort of her arms, somehow sensing that it wouldn't help him right now, Ana is struggling with her own emotions when she nervously asks, "Just 'okay'?"

Taking a deep, trembling breath, Christian explains, "Okay; I understand that you would feel an unbearable burden of guilt if you put your welfare above that of even an embryo. I can't quite be there with you, because, though I do care about our baby, I unashamedly care more about you; I know you don't hold that against me. But I can empathize enough to comprehend your meaning. And I know that there's not a damn thing I can do about it anyway. So…okay."

Concerned that he seems so upset, Ana again chooses trust, saying, "Well, that's why I'm explaining this to you; I want to give you control. I said so anyway, but hadn't really felt it until I read your apology…oh, can you please send that to me? It's beautiful, and I really think it will help when things get tough. You know they will, right?"

It's almost a cry when Christian says, "Yeah, I know." Running a hand through his hair while he composes himself, he then asks, "What do mean by 'control'? Do you mean of your treatment?"

"Exactly; and more. I've agreed that you can make decisions about the baby's safety. But I think we both knew it was only words; that, when you inevitably made a decision that chose me over the baby, I'd veto it. But you need control, Christian. I really get that now. And I trust you. I haven't been able to until now; not completely…partly because I'm so young, I guess. And, as you pointed out, we're still learning things about each other. But also because your anxiety is somehow sort of contagious, making me nervous about telling you stuff that even _might_ upset you. Last night I finally understood what we both need; you making the tough choices. Things work better between us when we have that. So that's what I want."

Christian studies her for a while, then observes, "You're afraid."

A stutter of a nervous laugh erupting from her, Ana counters, "Terrified."

"But you're serious. You really intend to trust me with this."

The fact that he hasn't made it a question allays her fears somewhat, and Ana manages a genuine smile when she says, "Darling, I already am."

Shaking his head, Christian says, "I can't…I don't even know how I feel about this."

Despite having made her decision, Ana still feels apprehensive enough to ask, "Can you explain what you _are_ feeling?"

After a moment, Christian explains, "Scared, of course. I'm worried that I'll fuck it up again. But also...lighter, I guess. It's as if something that was…like a heavy boulder was resting inside me, but now it's kind of rising up; lighter than air." Suddenly breaking out in a boyish grin, he says, "Sounds like a good thing."

Finally at peace with her decision, Ana smiles and says, "It does. Do you still need the work out?"

"How did you know I needed…? Never mind; you clearly know me better than I do. No, I don't." Suddenly standing, Christian says, "But I'd better do some more research before our appointment." Putting the tray back on Ana's lap, he continues, "Eat. Find me when you're ready to go. And, wear that fucking panic button or I'll come up with a punishment that will ensure you never forget."

Unconcerned, Ana smiles at his sudden good mood and says, "I haven't yet agreed to resume discipline."

In the tone that makes even her cells stand to attention, Christian says, "Yes, you have. You've just given me full autonomy where the baby's welfare is concerned. Your stress levels affect the baby, and submitting to discipline lowers your stress, so we're resuming as of now. Now, eat your bland breakfast and get ready for our appointment."

Despite being confident that she'd been doing the right thing, for all three of them, Ana only feels the rightness of it in that moment. With all her complicated feelings for her husband evident in her quiet voice and modest gaze, she vows, "Yes, Sir."

Bending down to again kiss her, Christian pauses with his face close to hers and asks, "Remind me again what I did to deserve you in my life?"

They've discussed it before, but Ana doesn't mind doing so again, and smiles as she obliges, "You helped me up."

* * *

Carl Renner, an older man with whitening blonde hair and piercing, blue eyes, greets them both and motions that they should sit, also doing so as he says, "Thanks, for coming in. As I explained, this is just to discuss your options. Nothing needs to be done today. McKay tells me that you're both intelligent, educated people." Then nodding to Christian he adds, "And we've already spoken about your wish to continue with the pregnancy. So I presume you have some idea what sort of treatment plan you'd like to proceed with?"

Any trace of doubt that Christian might be harboring about now being the one on the spot when it comes to his family's welfare is confined to a darted glance towards his wife before he succinctly says, "We do. Unless you think it's a very bad idea, we'd like to limit treatment to constant monitoring of Ana and the baby's condition, for as long as possible; certainly until the second trimester. Of course, if something changes, we'll have to come up with a different plan."

Tapping away at the laptop on his desk, Renner nods his head, saying, "Uh, huh; we can do that. To that end, I'd like to do another MRI tomorrow afternoon, so we can get a definitive idea of the tumor's growth rate. Assuming it continues to grow at this slow rate, and it might not, I think there is little risk involved in limiting your therapy to analgesics for the headaches." Then looking at Ana, he asks, "How are they, currently?"

"Fine, if I sleep on my left side. I woke up with one in the middle of the night. But it quickly disappeared and I was okay this morning, other than morning sickness."

His tone mildly accusatory, Christian says, "You didn't tell me that last night."

With a shrug, considering that she's been putting up with the pain for months, Ana simply says, "I didn't think it was important."

Renner intercedes at that point to say, "I disagree. Have you heard the Frog Soup analogy, Mrs. Grey?" At her nod, he continues, "Other than bi-monthly scans, I'd like you to keep a health diary; document the intensity of any pain or nausea, as all your symptoms so far could have been explained by the pregnancy alone, but will only worsen if they're caused by the tumor. With that information at hand we'll know right away if things are escalating, even if it doesn't feel like it." With a smile, he then says, "And it'll be something nice to look back on one day with your child."

Incredibly grateful to have an understanding, optimistic oncologist, Ana finally relaxes and says, "Thank you. So, you agree with our plan?"

"I do. As mentioned, things could change and we'll have to revise at that point. But there are all sorts of options before needing aggressive treatment for a tumor so small, and that appears to be benign; anti-inflammatories and anticonvulsants can help reduce the tumor's size without risking the baby. For now, one of the best things you can do is look after your health, so your body can aide us in this fight. I'll send you home with yet more information." With a grin, he says, "I'm sure you've been bombarded already, but I also suspect that you can cope." Then gesturing to their joined hands, he concludes, "And that's a very good sign. The threat of cancer, under any circumstances, can put a huge strain on a relationship. Even more so when the welfare of a baby is a consideration. But the two of you are obviously cooperating, and that will help a lot. Do you have any questions at this stage?"

It's Christian who asks, "You'll send us links that will be helpful?"

"Yes. I've also spoken to Dr. Greene. She also recommended postponing treatment, and will keep me apprised of your baby's health." When they say nothing, he asks, "That's it?"

Christian and Ana glance at each other, and then he says, "That's it. Unless, like Ana, you believe in prayer?"

Renner smiles and says, "I'm afraid not. But I _will_ be hoping for the best. I won't see you tomorrow, but I'll get the results of your scan and let you know what it means; probably nothing at this stage. If you're concerned about anything, call my office." To Ana, he says, "I recommend you acquire and wear a medical alert bracelet. Most likely the first sign we'll have that the tumor has significantly grown is a tingling in your left arm or you'll suddenly mix up your words. But, as I'm sure you're aware, these things are difficult to predict, so you could simply pass out, and you'll want the medical technicians to know why."

Ana merely nods her understanding, but Christian says, "That's a good idea, thank you."

Renner then smiles at him and says, "It's best on the left wrist, as that's most likely where a right-handed person would check the pulse." With another lull in conversation, he continues, "Well, I'll be in contact, including sending you all that information. And you won't actually see me until something changes, okay?"

Standing, momentarily releasing Ana, Christian shakes the older man's hand as he cheerfully says, "Then I hope we don't see you for a very long time."

* * *

Snuggled against Christian, in the back seat of the SUV, Ana doesn't at first know what the noise is. Looking up, she sees that the front of Grey Publishing is now a temporary home for apparently most of Seattle's media. Her heart is beating faster at this new development as Christian angrily explains, "I'm sorry, baby. But someone snapped a photo of us going into McKay's office, and apparently offered it to the highest bidder, sparking media interest. All they were able to find out is that you're a patient of his, but they'll keep digging."

Guessing, Ana says, "Oh, that's what you were doing at dawn this morning?"

Relaxing a little when she doesn't seem upset, Christian confirms, "Yes. I'll try and keep a lid on it, but we already know how determined they can be. You okay?"

"I suspect that I'll have a very angry Kate Kavanagh to deal with if she sees the news report before I call her. But other than that, I'm fine."

Christian chuckles and says, "Good luck with that. We'd better break our good and bad news to the rest of our friends and family, too." With a shrug, he continues, "I know you're supposed to wait before announcing a pregnancy, but I don't want them to find out from some stranger."

"How about we invite everyone over for dinner soon? It might help them if they can see that I'm okay."

"Good plan. I'll set it up." After a moment, he continues, "I think this could work."

"You being in control? You feel better?"

"I do. Just knowing that I can make decisions for us means that I'm more relaxed, about everything. And I haven't yet needed medication today."

Amazed that her decision to relinquish control is already having a positive effect, Ana beams her gratitude and says, "I'm glad my Christian is back."

As they enter the secure parking garage beneath the building, Christian kisses her, then quietly promises, "You won't be tonight. I owe you retroactive punishment."

Her body tingling in anticipation of an evening of play, Ana cheerfully argues, "Ex post facto is considered unconstitutional in the United States."

First kissing that spot behind her ear, in the way that takes her breath away, Christian vows, "Not even the constitution will save you tonight, my love."

Practically melting, Ana says, "No fair, Grey. I have to work."

Suddenly serious, he says, "No, you don't."

It's the first test, and Ana knows it, so her heart is pounding for a different reason as she asks, "Are you forbidding me?"

Christian's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he studies her face as he gives it serious thought, then says, "You really mean it; you trust me now…completely."

Relieved that he's beginning to understand, Ana is still nervous enough that she can only manage, "Yes."

As the car comes to a halt by the service elevator, Christian considers the matter for a few more seconds, then says, "No, I'm not. You enjoy your job and your health is currently good enough that it won't prove too much of a burden for you. But I will miss you and worry about you until you return home tonight; on time."

Everything in her relaxing at this sign that she's right to put her faith in Christian, she nevertheless can't resist teasing, "Maybe."

As Ryan opens Ana's door, Christian shakes his head at her cheekiness, then unclips her belt and hauls her onto his lap to ask, "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Her arms behind his neck, and an utterly content smile on her lips, Ana suggests, "Almost as much as I love you?"

They're too lost in the kiss to see Ryan give Taylor a thumbs-up.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's note: Sorry, I thought everyone knew the Frog Soup analogy; the premise that, if you submerge a frog in cold water and very slowly heat it up, the creature will boil to death, effectively making frog soup. But, if you dump it in hot water, it will immediately jump out. The doc is suggesting that Ana's condition could gradually worsen without her noticing, so she needs to tell him and Christian everything.

Thanks to glory2bee, for naming the tumor. Honorable mentions to marpuri (Reginald von Tumorstein was very tempting), and the Guest who suggested Spec, which fit nicely with Blip.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-three

Ana is sixteen weeks pregnant, almost to the day, when she wakes Christian in the middle of the night. Instantly alert, he sits up and almost frantically asks, "Headache?"

Pale, her brow furrowed in distress, and one hand clasping the tumor site, Ana nods and says, "It's Dolores. I think she's bigger." Angry with herself for the show of weakness, she is nonetheless helpless to stop the few tears that squeeze from between her lids as she continues, "Please, Christian, it hurts so much."

As if he was somehow planning for this moment in his sleep, Christian takes her in his arms, even as he reaches for his phone, saying, "It's okay, baby. Just hang in there. We'll get you some help real soon."

Sliding the phone open and dialing Taylor, he doesn't have to wait long before hearing, "Hospital?"

"Hospital."

Quickly helping Ana into some casual clothes, then making sure she's comfortable while he does the same, Christian is offering soothing words that have no hope of easing her pain when Taylor knocks on the door and asks, "Need help here?"

"No, just get the fucking car ready. We'll meet you down there." Then lifting Ana in his arms, Christian says, "Here we go, baby. You'll feel better soon, I promise."

In the car, even as his hands tremble with his need to comfort Ana, Christian puts her off his lap and clicks her seatbelt in place, before doing the same for himself. Then slowly running a hand repeatedly through her hair, he soothes, "Remember your technique, baby; imagine that balloon inside your head and push the pain out, okay?"

Her voice rising in distress, tears streaming down her face, Ana says, "I can't. Christian, it hurts so bad. Please, just make it stop."

Biting the inside of his cheek, to combat his own need to weep for his wife, Christian then summons fresh reserves of strength and commands her, "You _can_, and you _will_. Cut out this 'poor me' crap and do as you're fucking told."

A shudder goes through Ana, one of her signs that she's heard him, and she closes her eyes for a few seconds, then weakly says, "Okay, I got it."

Breathing a sigh of relief, even as his heart swells at her courage, Christian wills his voice to hold steady as he more gently instructs, "Well done, baby. Now, deep breaths as you inflate it. Push the pain outside your head. I know you can do this."

By the time he's carrying her into Emergency, a still very pale but much calmer Ana has her eyes clenched shut as she controls the intensity of the headache brought on by the tumor pushing against the inside of her skull. They've been expecting this, so Christian finds the quietest corner of the room and murmurs constant reassurances to her as Taylor deals with the "seen it all and then some" staff at the desk. Only seconds later, a nurse is approaching and asks the routine questions about Ana's current condition, while taking her blood pressure, then says, "Please follow me. Doctor Renner should be here soon. In the meantime, he's given us permission to give you some relief for the pain."

Ana is only able to offer a weak, grateful smile. But Christian utters, "Thank God."

With a fetus-friendly anesthetic in her system, a much more relaxed Ana is part dozing while staring at Christian when Carl Renner arrives, brightly greeting them with, "I hear that Dolores has put on weight?"

Ana smiles and says, "Her and me both, Doc. It happened like you said; sudden intense pain that nothing would ease. The visualizations helped a little, but it no longer matters what side I'm lying on. And the pain was bad, at least a ten. If someone had told me that hitting my head with a hammer would ease it, I would have tried that."

Nodding as Ana speaks, performing a cursory examination, and checking the clipboard showing her stats on arrival, Renner then says, "Uh, huh. Okay. Any other symptoms?"

"No, nothing. Christian?"

Having moved out of the way when Renner entered, Christian volunteers, "None, that I noticed. She was in a lot of pain, but seemed lucid, even articulate; also able to follow instructions and perform simple tasks."

Nodding again, Renner asks Ana, "And do you still prefer surgery over chemotherapy at this stage?"

"Yes, please. If Christian is with me I can do it."

Scribbling something on the clipboard, Renner says, "Right. We'll do another MRI, just to make sure we're right; that Dolores' size has escalated past the point where the anti-inflammatories can keep her under control. In the meantime, I'll get the team together." Then patting Ana's hand, he smiles and says, "And I don't want you to worry; Nick Adams is the best neurosurgeon I know, okay?"

Smiling enough to reassure him, Ana says, "Okay."

Apparently satisfied, Renner pats her hand again and says to Christian, "A word, Mr. Grey?"

Taking the time to quickly kiss Ana, Christian then follows Renner outside the room, where the doctor says, "As we've discussed, there are several things that could go wrong. Brain surgery is like removing a spider from jelly. That's why Nick is actually happy that you've elected for only local anesthetic; he'll want to make sure that he removes only the spider and none of Ana's brain. Her being able to talk to him will help ensure that her cognitive abilities remain intact."

They've been over every aspect of the surgery, so Christian swallows his fear and says only, "I know."

Renner nods and says, "I'm not worried about Ana. She's an incredibly strong young woman who has proven time and again that she can cope with what's to come. And she appears certain that you'll be a calming influence during the surgery. Other than Nick's skill, Ana remaining calm is the most important thing for a successful operation. If her blood pressure spikes while she's under the knife it could cause irreparable damage to her and the baby."

Finally catching on, Christian says, "You think I'm not up to the task."

Backtracking a little, Renner says, "Not at all. I'm _asking_ if you are. Because I don't want you in there if you can't keep it together. I hope you understand; this is not a criticism. I'm not positive I could hold my wife's hand while someone drilled into her brain…you'll hear that sound, by the way. It's not as loud as a dentist's drill, but it is chillingly distinctive."

Shaking his head to clear the image, Christian says, "I'm aware. I've been watching videos of similar operations so that nothing will be too much of a shock. But I know that won't be the same as being there. So I've also been focusing on preparing for this with my therapist." When Renner says nothing, only silently appraising Christian's expression, he continues, "I agree that Ana will cope just fine. In fact, I disagree that she even needs me there. But she _thinks_ she does, so I'm not going to let her down. I haven't needed medication since the week we learned about the baby and the tumor, but I'll have some with me, just in case. I'm not going to let her down."

Apparently satisfied, Renner nods and says, "Very well. As I said, we'll do another MRI, just to be sure. But I've already called Nick, because I'm almost certain that he'll want to do the surgery today. As they prep Ana, one of his team will take you aside and get you ready to enter a sterile environment. We won't start until you're by her side, okay?"

Offering his hand, Christian's gratitude is genuine as he says, "Thank you. I'll be glad to finally get rid of Dolores."

Accepting the gesture, Renner then asks, "Oh, why that name? I've had other patients who named their tumor, but they're usually a lot less flattering."

Remembering the conversation, Christian smiles as he explains, "Ana's idea; different pronunciation, but it's from the Latin for 'headache'."

Renner smiles and says, "Capitis dolores; clever. I'll have to remember that one. Ready to let a stranger cut into your wife's brain?"

Realizing what's going on, Christian first calms himself from the feeling of panic that these words elicit, then offers his 'fuck you' smile and asks only, "Did I pass?"

Unapologetic, Renner nods and says, "With flying colors. All right. We'll get that scan done and, if all goes well, you'll be rid of Dolores by this evening."

Though he still doesn't believe in prayer, Christian says "Amen," before returning to comfort Ana.

* * *

Having finally succumbed to exhaustion as the surgery had concluded, Ana eventually awakens in a private room, to her husband's concerned face. Quickly noting a few things; both of his hands around one of hers, those dark rings under his eyes, the slight pallor to his skin, and seemingly permanent furrows of distress on his forehead, Ana swallows a few times to produce enough moisture to speak and asks, "Cancer?"

With a hiss of surprise, Christian exclaims, "God, woman, your courage." Shaking his head a little, he continues, "Yes, but there's some good news. Adams is almost certain that he got the entire tumor. And Renner says that we're still okay to delay treatment. But we can talk about that later. You need to focus on your recovery for now."

Instinctively putting a hand on her belly, Ana then asks, "Blip?"

Smiling, Christian says, "Is fine. Do you remember any of the surgery?"

"Most, I think. You were amazing."

Almost horrified at the depths of her courage, Christian chokes out, "_Me_? Baby, you were incredible; keeping calm like that. Greene had it easy, sitting there watching the fetal monitor with nothing to do, because you breezed through it so well."

Ana shrugs and says, "She said that if I got upset, it might put Little Blip in danger."

Standing up long enough to kiss her, Christian then says, "That doesn't make you less incredible, baby. I'm so proud of you."

Wondering if she'll ever be able to accept praise from Christian without blushing, Ana ignores the heat in her cheeks to ask, "Does everyone know I'm okay?"

"Yes. Grace popped her head in, but you were sleeping. Ray should be here soon. Your Mom and Bob are on their way. And I'm sure you'll have a steady stream of well-wishers through here come visiting hours."

Praying that he'll listen, Ana says, "When Dad gets here, would you please go home for some rest?"

Ana holds her breath as Christian's need for sleep wars with his concern for her, then his posture slumps a little in surrender and he says, "Okay; for a few hours."

"Thank you. I'm proud of you, too. You didn't even take medication."

Christian shrugs and says, "You prefer me sober."

Ana laughs and says, "Much. You smell better for a start."

It's a not too subtle reference to the night she told him about the pregnancy, and it's Christian's turn to blush. And he's again lost for words, having never come up with a satisfactory explanation for his behavior that night, despite Ana and Flynn assuring him that it was understandable. Finally, he says, "Can I apologize, yet?"

"No. Tell me your reasons again?"

Suddenly letting go of her, Christian shows the large bag by her bed as he says, "Oh, I brought the belt and your iPod, so you can both listen to music while you're here. There's some other stuff to keep you comfortable, too."

"Books?"

Smiling that it's the first thing she thinks of, Christian says, "Of course. Even some homework, so you won't feel too lazy." Affecting a stern glare, or as close to it as his relieved heart will permit, he continues, "But you mustn't persist if you feel tired. Renner says that fatigue will be a problem while your body recovers from the surgery."

"I'll be careful, I promise. Your reasons?"

Passing a cup and straw, Christian says, "A few sips, first. I can practically hear your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth."

Ana accepts the cup as she jokes, "Sexy, right?"

Christian means it when he says, "Yes, you are."

Ana chokes a little on the water, grateful that she'd only sipped it, then protests, "Fuck, Grey. I've got a bald patch on my head, staples in my scalp and, I'm guessing, a rather severe case of bed hair. You can't find me sexy at the moment."

His tone warm, no indication at all that she was a centimeter from death only hours ago, Christian counters, "You know that I love it when your hair is all wild like that. And I've always found your courage incredibly alluring."

"Fine. I'm sexy. Now stop stalling."

Now relaxed, Christian grins and says, "I'm glad you admitted it. Comfy?"

Handing him the cup and leaning back, Ana says, "Yes, thank you." As he's done several times at her request, Christian slowly recounts his reasons why he'll make a good parent, and she remembers each of the gifts he'd given her, to support his claims…

"One: they will want for nothing." Though it was not technically to indicate that first reason, Ana now thinks of her exquisite aquamarine jewelry as the first gift.

"Two: the gift of music." The pregnancy music belt that she has used every evening since he gave it to her, despite Pam Greene's assurances that the baby couldn't hear at first.

With a cheeky grin, he recounts, "Three: when I fuck up, I'll try and make it right." This had accompanied his email when he'd sent her the written apology for their child; a remarkably cheap gift for Christian Grey, but still one of her favorites.

"Four: the gift of education." Ana had at first been horrified that he'd already enrolled their child in a few of the best schools in the state, until he'd assured her that these mainstays of elite education had waiting lists of several years.

"Five: I will keep them safe." This had been accompanied by the news that their almost finished home is to be outfitted with a state of the art security system; and that he was already interviewing child-friendly security officers to find the perfect bodyguards for their son or daughter. Much as it upset her that such measures were necessary, the daily attention from the press since they found out about her pregnancy and tumor proved that it was necessary. It had been getting increasingly difficult to make it into her office un-accosted.

"Six: I will never harm them." Ana has read, from cover to cover and back again, the many books on gentle parenting that Christian added to their bookshelf.

"Seven: their life will be filled with fun." Ridiculous as it was, given that the baby was an embryo at the time, Ana still enjoys looking at the many educational toys Christian bought for Little Blip.

"Eight: the gift of my time." After apologizing for still spending too many of his evenings in his study; confessing that a lot of this time was spent second-guessing his trusted subordinates, Christian had since cut back even more on his work hours and was instead focused on being whatever Ana needed, in the bedroom, playroom or living room. It had not only strengthened their relationship, but helped Ana realize that just spending time together turned her on more than anything else he did. This reason had been accompanied by a stunning diamond and white gold Cartier ladies watch. When Ana had joked that it could probably pay for a new car, he'd shrugged and said, "Maybe not a Ferrari, but you could certainly get an 'as new' one for it." She'd never been game to ask the actual price. On the back was engraved "Ana", "Christian" and "Little Blip". She hadn't cried at all his gifts, but had done so on seeing that.

"Nine: I love your mother; always have and always will." This accompanied by a promise ring that fit perfectly with her engagement and wedding ring. Before putting it on her finger, he'd let Ana see the words engraved within, "Forever is composed of Nows." Recognizing the quote from Emily Dickinson, she'd known exactly what he was promising when he'd said "I am yours, now," and she'd wept more happy tears.

As he's done every day since, Christian gently uncovers Ana's slightly swollen abdomen and puts his lips against her skin to reveal his tenth reason why he'll make a good father, "Because I love you."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-four

Controlling his fury with every trick he's ever learned, Christian too-calmly asks Taylor, "Say again?"

Taking a deep breath, Taylor says, "Other than a grazed knee, Ana is absolutely fine. But there was an incident with the press at GP. Ryan did his best to get her safely into the building, but they were both jostled and Mrs. Grey was knocked to the ground. They're on their way home, on her orders…actually, probably there by now."

Noting the uncharacteristic use of "Ana", Christian relaxes further, knowing that Taylor is also controlling his temper. "Is this Ryan's fault?"

"Not in my opinion, sir. Though I'm sure he feels guilty. Not even the extra security we've stationed at the parking garage could have prevented this forever. It was only a matter of time since that photo of Mrs. Grey circulated."

That photo; the one taken with what can only have been a very expensive zoom lens, showing the bald patch on Ana's head and her healing scar. She'd carefully styled her hair to cover it up, so they must have stalked her relentlessly to get that money shot. Since then he'd banned all newspapers from the apartment, because Ana didn't need to face headlines speculating on whether she or the baby might die at any time. Shoving a few papers into his briefcase, he says, "Right. Looks like I'm going home very early, today."

Christian calls Ana on the way to the car, and she answers, "I'm fine, Christian, really. Just a skinned knee. Gail is playing nurse for me."

As always, calmed just by the sound of her voice, Christian promises, "I'll be there, soon."

"No, please, darling. I'm honestly okay. It was a bit scary, but Ryan stopped anyone from actually getting to me, and you know how clumsy I can be. It wasn't his fault. I've already rung the office. They understand and will no doubt be glad that the press will be forced to find something else to do for a while. You'll just be bored at home. I'm going to get some rest and do what work I can from here until things settle down."

Motioning for Taylor to wait, Christian comes to a halt, saying, "You do _sound_ okay."

"That's because I am. Please, baby, I'm relaxed and well. Little Blip found it a bit exciting, but I'm fine."

"Blip is moving?"

"Yeah, I told you; those little flutters."

"Oh, right." A deep sigh and he says, "I can do this if you get Greene to check you and the baby, today."

"I will. I promise." A muttered "Thanks, Gail," and then Ana quietly asks, "And will you reconsider if Pam says it's okay?"

"Our next checkup with Renner isn't for two days, which will be only four weeks since Adams cut into your brain."

Ana is quiet for a few seconds and then attempts, "Have I not been a good girl?"

His dick, already at attention at her line of questioning, swells still further at her tone and choice of words. Leaning his head against the nearest wall, as the sudden intensity of his desire for her curves leaves him lightheaded, Christian says, "Fuck, Ana, would you go easy on me?"

"I have, darling; almost four weeks of nothing but foreplay. I haven't had any of the symptoms they said to watch out for. I'm not going to break, Christian. I'm fine. But I've promised to let you decide, so that's why I'm asking you, instead of planning a seduction."

As if he actually has a choice, when his dick is practically pointing towards Escala, Christian finally relents, "You win, baby; if Greene says it's okay. Can I trust you to tell me the truth about this?"

Ana giggles and says, "Probably not. Yes, of course. I'll see you tonight. Thank you, darling. Sex you soon."

Christian groans and hangs up the phone. At Taylor's obvious concern, he says, "Uh, Ana, she…" Waving a hand to dismiss that explanation, he settles for, "Pregnancy hormones and brain surgery; tricky stuff."

Presumably only his years of training keep his reaction to sparkling eyes and a slight twitching of his mouth, and Taylor says, "I imagine so, sir."

After a very unconvincing glare at his friend and bodyguard, Christian spins on his heel and heads back towards his office, saying, "Ana will be working from home for now. I'm not having her or the baby in danger because of those jackals. I want two people on her whenever she leaves the apartment, and I want one of them to be you."

"She's not going to like two of us shadowing her, sir."

"No, but she'll fucking do it. She knows very well that I'm daily fighting the urge to just whisk her away and keep them safe."

When Christian suddenly stops, Taylor almost runs into him, saying, "Sir?"

Resuming walking, Christian says, "Nothing. Just had an idea that she might be able to live with. Have Welch grab all the footage he can of the incident. If there's a chance to see any of these fuckers do jail time, make it happen. But only if it's by the book. I don't want them to have _any_ reason to turn it into another story."

Already getting his phone out as they walk, Taylor's voice is harsh as he says, "My pleasure."

* * *

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?"

Startled by this rude interruption to her sudsy reverie, Ana quickly recovers and doesn't even open her eyes to tell Christian, "I would think it's perfectly obvious that I'm having a bath." Then opening her eyes and pointing to the baby monitor, she adds, "And, if you're going to use language like that, would you please switch that off? Though I'm guessing Gail's already switched it off at her end, now that she knows you're here to keep me _safe_."

Immediately mollified by this knowledge that Ana has at least considered her safety, Christian does as bid. Beside the monitor is a page of instructions: _How to take a bath while pregnant, _and a thermometer. Dropping to his knees beside her, he says, "I'm sorry."

With no trace of bitterness, Ana asks, "For?"

"For once again forgetting to trust you, when I know very well that you'd never do anything to put our baby at jeopardy."

Apparently it's enough, because Ana's face brightens with a ready smile and she observes, "You're early."

Relieved to be so easily forgiven, Christian grins and says, "Well, once you texted me 'We have a green light', I found it surprisingly difficult to concentrate on work."

"Then I think you're wearing far too many clothes, Mr. Grey."

"You'll behave? Bath's too dangerous a place for our first time."

Her gaze deceptively deferential, Ana looks up at him through her eyelashes and traces a cross, in bubbles, on her naked chest.

"Oh, fuck. There's no fucking way I'm getting in there with you in that mood."

Ana giggles and says, "I'm sorry, baby. I'm just teasing. Of course I'll behave. I need you to wash my hair, remember? Pam says that the scar is looking good, but still to check with Renner before soaking it." With a warm smile, she adds, "Besides, I like you pampering me."

Still wary – the fear that he might inadvertently hurt Ana during sex having returned his nightmares, but with a new plot – Christian decides to trust her and says, "Be right back."

When he does soon return, now naked, Ana drinks in the sight of him and says, "I've changed my mind. I'm going to take you right here in this tub."

Recognizing that she's mostly joking, Christian grins and teases, "Not if I take you first."

Despite their need, they manage to keep it clean, in every sense of the word, while Christian washes Ana's hair; her sitting between his legs, facing away from him. "How's it looking back there?"

Gently touching the puckered scar – at first so shocking that it genuinely distressed him to look at it – Christian says, "Not too bad; healing nicely, and your hair is growing back. You've got a patch of fuzz." Remembering that this sign of physical trauma is the reason why Ana no longer suffers crippling headaches, Christian steels his courage and tenderly places his lips to the site.

There's several seconds of silence while he returns to gently cleaning her hair, and then Ana whispers, "You've never done that before."

He can hear the tears, so Christian wraps his arms around the top of her chest and shoulders, saying, "No, sorry. But I know you understand that it totally freaked me out to look at it. Other than I anchored my gaze on yours and didn't let go of your hand even when you fell asleep, I'm not sure how I got through the surgery. So I couldn't stand seeing that reminder of what you've endured."

Resting her arms over his, relishing the almost platonic contact, Ana says, "Of course, I understand. I'm just amazed you could do it at all. And now you're able to kiss my scar? I'm in awe of your courage."

Christian smiles and kisses her cheek, then says, "Funny, I seem to recall saying almost those same words about you more than once."

They're quiet again for a while, just silently drawing comfort from each other, and then Ana says, "Just had a horrible thought; with your courage, and mine, our child really will be fearless. How the hell are we going to control them?"

Christian chuckles and says, "God, you're right. I've read all those books, and spent hours researching parenting websites, but I have a sneaking suspicion that we'll still have to wing it on occasion." Holding her a little tighter, he adds, "Together, right?"

Also clutching at him just a little more, Ana agrees, "Together." Eventually, platonic feelings turn more carnal, and she says, "Well, you're going to insist on dinner before we fuck, so I'd better get out."

Christian laughs again and says, "Yes, I am." Standing long enough to ensure Ana makes it safely out of the tub, he says, "I won't be long. Just wrap a towel around your hair for now. I'll dry and brush it for you when I'm done."

Ana quickly kisses him and teases, "Don't forget to scrub between your legs. I have plans."

His still semi-erect dick springing to life at the thought of Ana's mouth on him, Christian groans and says, "You're an evil woman."

Resting one hand lightly on his wet chest, Ana's smile is serene as she says, "And you're a gorgeous man. I'm glad I have the scar." At his confusion, she explains, "Makes me a little more like you."

Genuinely moved that she'd want such a thing, Christian's voice is filled with longing when he says, "You'd better go."

Ana's joyful laugh echoes off the tiles as she wraps a towel only around her hair and leaves the bathroom, deliberately accentuating the movement of her currently fuller hips as she does so. Christian looks down at his now rigid cock and promises "Soon," before quickly cleaning the day from his body. Then reaching for his waterproof electric shaver, he takes care of what little stubble exists on his chin and flips open the trimmer to do some manscaping.

* * *

Still smiling at this fun, new game of provoking Christian without trying to wrest control from him, Ana selects something a little nicer than she usually wears to a mid-week dinner; that peach bustier and garter belt that he'd so enjoyed on the evening she'd chosen to submit to him. She knows him well enough to understand that just seeing it will bring that evening back in vivid detail for him. Of course, the outfit no longer fits her pregnant form.

She's trying to force it's cooperation over her wider hips, fuller breasts and slightly bulging belly when warm, strong hands cover hers where they're struggling with the laces. She's fighting frustrated tears as Christian wordlessly helps her from the bustier. Still without a word, he unwraps her towel turban and tosses it aside, then kisses her and leads her by the hand into their walk-in closet.

Within seconds he finds and helps her into a peach empire line evening dress that suits the underwear and her figure. Then taking a still emotionally fragile Ana in his arms, he gently says, "I love that you're making this evening special, baby, but we don't want the baby born claustrophobic." It's enough that a glimmer of a smile lightens her features, so he continues, "I'm sorry that I didn't think of it before. I forget that you still don't see yourself as the stunningly beautiful woman I know and love. Your wardrobe will be fixed by the end of the week; only sexy maternity clothes, okay?"

Recognizing that this is now something that Christian needs to do for her, Ana is genuinely grateful, even as she worries about the fate of her "skinny" clothes. "Okay. Thank you. Can we keep these, though?"

Visibly relieved that she seems all right, Christian smiles and says, "Sure, baby. I'll put them in storage with the rest of your clothes."

"The rest of my clothes?"

He laughs and says, "Yeah. What, did you think I just threw everything out?"

Ana had honestly not even considered what had happened to all the clothes she'd left behind at the apartment she'd shared with Kate. He'd said something about storage for her belongings, but she had no idea that included even the boring outfits she used to wear in an attempt to remain invisible. "You kept even my clothes?"

"Of course, baby. At the time you made me promise not to choose what you wear."

Genuinely moved that he'd go to such lengths to keep his word, Ana smiles and says, "You remember everything you promise me, don't you."

Caressing a hand through her damp hair, Christian says, "I'm still working on keeping all of them. But, yes, I remember. Though I'm glad we don't need so many words to understand each other nowadays." Suddenly grinning, he suggests, "How about you go through all your things when you're too huge to move?"

Ana's eyes narrow in warning at the taunt, even as she realizes, "You're testing me."

With a ready grin, Christian admits, "Yes. You passed." Suddenly sobering, he cradles Ana's face with both hands and insists, "You are a vibrant, incredibly sexy woman, who also happens to be pregnant with our first child. Say that back to me, so I'll know you've heard me."

Not really feeling it, Ana is almost amazed when her mood improves even as she speaks the words, "I am a vibrant, sexy woman, who also happens to be pregnant with our first child." Suddenly shy, and not understanding why, she lowers her gaze and says, "Thank you, Christian."

Nothing in his tone suggests anything other than desire and love for his wife, when Christian kisses her and says, "Truly my pleasure, Anastasia." Then releasing her and glancing down at his still erect penis, he concludes, "Well, if we're going formal, I'd better see if I can fit this into a tux."

* * *

Gail is putting the finishing touches to dinner when Christian enters the kitchen. Quickly taking in his appearance, she smiles and says, "My, don't you look fine this evening, sir."

Despite their now practiced familiarity still feeling a little awkward, after so many years thinking of employees as just that, Christian is helpless to stop the wide grin as he cheekily reveals, "Date night."

Gail chokes on her laughter, clearly unsure how to respond for a second, and then teases, "Jason will be happy to hear it, sir; ten miles is a little more than he likes to run every morning."

Still grinning, Christian says, "Yeah, he's a lazy fucker. What's for dinner?"

"Beef bourguignon? Ana said that her morning sickness is easing, so I thought she might be ready for something richer."

"Perfect, thank you. Serve when you're ready." Picking up the opened bottle of non-alcoholic wine still sitting on the counter, he asks, "This is what you used?"

"Yes, sir. I'm done with it, if you'd like the rest."

"Thanks." About to leave, he forces his legs to stillness and says, "And, thanks, for putting up with me. I know that I've been on edge since…well, for a long time. Oh, did Taylor tell you that he'll be working at home most days for a while?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you. And you're welcome on the other matter. I know you understand that I'm not here just for the money. I'm still mostly proud to work for you."

Suddenly grinning, like an errant child who's been granted a reprieve, Christian teases, "And so you should." More serious, he then says, "I'll enjoy seeing his ugly face when I get home in the evening."

"Sir?"

"That night…when I fucked up enough to make Ana think that I could ever leave her, for any reason, I _knew_ that she wouldn't be here when I got back." Struggling to find the words, he soon continues, "I mean, that arrogant bastard in me thought I still had a shot. But deep down where it counted, I knew that I'd driven her from me; that she'd already be gone from my life when I got back here. Only when I saw Jason waiting in my car did I dare to hope that I still had a chance. I'm not an idiot…not completely. I know that, if Ana ever leaves me, you two will go with her." His eyes wide with fear at the extremely unlikely event, Christian concludes, "And that's how I'd want it, anyway."

Then gesturing to Ana, silently waiting in the doorway behind him, Gail smiles and says, "I don't think that's something you have to worry about, sir. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes."

As Christian warily approaches her, Ana complains, "I've just put on makeup. Could you please not make me cry, tonight?"

Relaxing at her teasing tone, he offers the crook of his elbow as he says, "No promises. But let's see if we can make it through dinner."

As he guides them towards the dining room, Ana composes herself and says, "Maybe I should have let you apologize; you're good at it."

A hint of genuine regret in his tone, Christian reminisces, "Well, I did warn you on our honeymoon that I'd fuck up enough to improve."

"Not for a long time now."

Now in a bitter tone, Christian bites out, "Yes, almost five months without pissing off my wife enough that she should give up on me; truly an awesome feat."

Stopping their progress, effectively forcing him to look at her, Ana admonishes, "Hey, forever is composed of nows, remember? There's no point either of us dwelling on mistakes we've made in the past, except to use them as an example of what not to do in the future."

His pained expression transformed with a smile, Christian tenderly kisses her and teases, "Yes, Flynn."

Still untrusting of his mood, Ana instructs, "I am _not_ a fuckup."

Of course, recognizing it as an instruction, Christian grins and says, "I'm glad you agree. Let's eat." When Ana stubbornly holds her ground, he touches his nose to hers and then quietly vows, "I, Christian Grey, am not a _total_ fuckup. Happy?"

Unable to maintain her stern expression for a moment longer, Ana smiles and lets him again guide her as she says, "Close enough. Thank you."


	25. Chapter 25

Author's note: Thanks to sillie j, for pointing out my mistake in the previous chapter.

This one for anisurnois (in case you haven't worked it out by now; my favorite FSoG author), who is apparently citrus deficient right now. And for Louisvuittonfreak, who always remembers to let me know when I've done well.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-five

After first pushing Ana's chair in as she sits, driving her crazy with a well-placed kiss where her shoulder meets her neck, Christian pours them a glass each of the non-alcoholic wine and his eyes are twinkling with mirth as he offers the toast, "To a green light."

Ana giggles and touches her glass to his, saying, "Amen."

Eying his glass, Christian muses, "This one's not bad for pretend wine."

They've discussed it, but Ana tries again. "You know that the father doesn't actually have to abstain, right?"

"I know. But there's so much you're going through that I cannot share; avoiding booze is something I can." With a shrug, he continues, "Still making up for the last time I drank, anyway."

Concerned that he still feels guilty for panicking on the night she told him about the baby, Ana decides to ignore it and brightly says, "You've gotta be happy right now."

Dispelling his melancholy with a ready smile, Christian says, "As a matter of fact, I am. But why do I feel that you have a specific reason in mind?"

"Because you're clever. It occurs to me that his pregnant wife at home every day is almost a perfect scenario for an expecting Dom."

Unashamedly beaming at the idea, Christian says, "Yes, that occurred to me, too." More serious now, he continues, "Thank you, for being sensible about this. I'd rather keep my promise about not interfering with your career, but it's clearly become impractical for you to go into the office every day; at least for now. And it'll be easier getting through _my_ day knowing that you and Little Blip are safe. Do you need anything to work from home?"

"Nothing that I can't manage by myself, thank you. David understands and has freed up Hannah for errands. Oh, can we spare someone to keep her safe between here and my office? She'll have to daily run the gauntlet of reporters camped outside here and GP."

"That's a good idea." Taking his phone out, Christian adds, "If you'll excuse me, I'll take care of that now." After tapping away at his phone for a while, he then announces, "One rent-a-cop will be assigned to your assistant from tomorrow morning. If that's not enough to keep her unmolested, let Taylor know and he'll put one of our team on it."

"Thank you."

They then hear the sound of Gail approaching, wheeling the mobile butler with their dinner. Leaping up to meet her at the door, Christian says, "Thanks. I'll take it from here."

"Of course, sir. Just let me know when you want me to clear." In a knowing tone, Gail adds, "Enjoy your evening."

Her cheeky blessing is enough to redden Christian's ears as he serves, and Ana asks, "Something you want to tell me?"

An adamant, "No," but then Christian shrugs and says, "I, uh, was riding the wave of euphoria earlier and mentioned that this is date night." When Ana claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her reaction, he growls a warning, but it soon dissolves into a smile, which becomes mutual laughter as they both give vent to the frustrations of the past few months.

Finally, calming down enough to speak, Ana says, "I'm sorry. But 'Christian Grey' and 'date night' are not words that I ever expected to go together."

Finishing serving their dinner, Christian is still smiling slightly as he says, "Me, neither." Suddenly capturing Ana's chin in his hand, he angles her face up for a long, passionate kiss, then releases her and sits down as he says, "Can't pretend to be disappointed though. You continue to rock my world on an almost daily basis. Thank you."

Giddy from the laughing fit and his kiss, Ana is glad she's sitting down. "Uh, you're welcome. And, back at you, Grey. I almost can't remember who I was when I met you."

"Perhaps I really should bring your dreary old clothes here? Then you can reminisce how awful you dressed that first day."

Not very upset, Ana protests, "I'll have you know, that was my best skirt…actually, that was my only skirt."

His eyes bright with good humor, Christian grimaces and pronounces, "It was hideous; the sweater was worse, though I think those mannish boots really dragged the whole ensemble down."

Smiling, despite his words, because she knows that he's right, Ana counters, "Well, something must have worked. I'm still here."

"Yes, you are." Then inclining his head a little, Christian extends his hand and says, "Until we meet again, Miss Steele."

Putting her hand in his, Ana is also reliving that first day when she says, "Mr. Grey."

Holding her hand for a while, gently in his, Christian then says, "Do you think it will always do that?" At Ana's confusion, he looks at their joined hands, teasing tendrils of pleasure across the back of her hand with his thumb as he ponders, "That…it's like electricity. I wonder if it will always be there, or such things fade over time." Looking up to see tears in her eyes, he's immediately by her side, one comforting arm around her shoulders, asking, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Struggling not to break down completely, Ana exclaims, "Fucking hormones!" Drying her eyes on the still clean napkin, she calms down enough to say, "I didn't know you felt it, too."

Relaxing at these words, Christian tenderly kisses her and says, "Well, I sure as fuck didn't fall for your dress sense. Yes, I felt it, too. Though I didn't know, at the time, that it meant I was already in love with you." With one last kiss, he then sits down as he instructs, "Eat. We've got twenty-six days of fucking to catch up on."

Again in command of her wayward emotions, Ana says, "But we don't have to do so in one night, darling."

Grinning from ear to ear, Christian then says, "No time like the present, Mrs. Grey."

After an admittedly modest and hurried dinner, Christian texts Gail that she can clear, even as he and Ana walk hand in hand to their bedroom. Once there, they're almost shy as they brush their teeth, side by side. Suddenly realizing that it's not just her, Ana asks, "Why are you nervous?"

A shadow of fear passes across Christian's face, confirming her theory, and he finishes up, wiping his mouth and leaning his butt against the counter, both hands gripping the edge as he says, "I want to try something new."

Wondering what it could possibly be, given that they've fucked in so many different ways, Ana feels a stirring of excited fear, deep in her belly, and asks, "Oh?"

"Yes. I'm…" Taking a deep breath, he shakes his head, his voice barely audible as he says, "I don't want to hurt you."

Moving to stand in front of him, her hands resting on his chest, Ana says, "Hey, you won't. I really am fine."

Still nervous enough that he doesn't put his arms around her, Christian reveals, "I want you to restrain me."

Too shocked to at first understand, Ana just stares at him for a few seconds and then says, "Like tie you up?"

Christian smiles a little at her confusion and says, "A lot like that, though I'd rather you use the quick release handcuffs, so I don't freak out too much."

Still struggling to understand, even as some small part of her thrills at the idea, Ana says, "Well…why?"

Now relaxed enough to at least casually rest his hands on her hips, Christian says, "A few reasons. First, I think you'll enjoy it, once you realize I'm okay. And, I'm still worried that I'll get carried away and harm you. The theme of my nightmares lately has been distinctly unpleasant. Being restrained will ensure that we proceed at your pace. Lastly, it's time I get over this fear, and you're the one to help me."

Christian has stubbornly refused to share the images that have woken him in a cold sweat recently, but she'd guessed it's something pretty horrendous involving her brain surgery. She'd let it go, on the understanding that he discuss it in therapy. "What does Flynn say?"

Christian smiles and says, "That as I'm about to orgasm shouldn't be the first time I choose to be restrained. So we've been practicing."

Shaking her head in confusion, Ana says, "Flynn's been handcuffing you?"

Shocked by his sudden laughter, she recognizes it as a good thing, and then Christian says, "Oh, you're wonderful. No, baby. I took some cuffs to the last session and put them on while we talked; lasted the entire hour, too."

Ana considers for a moment and then says, "I'm okay to try this, if that's what you want. But I don't like that you think you'll get carried away enough to hurt me, because I know you won't. If I asked you to stop, you'd do so immediately."

His tone slightly reprimanding, Christian says, "Yes, if you ask."

"Oh." Smiling, even as she feels a little guilty, Ana says, "Yes, you're probably right. After so long without you inside me, I'd almost certainly want you to keep on going, even if I'm in pain." Suddenly brightening, she add, "All right, Grey, you're on. Where are the handcuffs?"

Putting his lips by her ear, Christian whispers "Under your pillow," then nips her earlobe.

The exquisite pleasure of that simple gesture shooting straight to her groin, Ana groans and says, "Yeah, I doubt I'd stop you even if my brain fell out." When Christian tenses, she has an answer as to the theme of his nightmares, so she promises, "No brain jokes. Got it."

With a weak smile, Christian says, "Thank you." Then gesturing that she should precede him, he adds, "You're in charge, Mrs. Grey."

Surprised he hasn't thought of it, given his obsession with her comfort and safety, Ana says, "You've forgotten something." At his confusion, she glances at her right knee, slightly swollen from its impact with the pavement, and red raw under the small dressing. "I can't easily be on top tonight."

"Fuck." Then, with an embarrassed grin, Christian asks, "Any suggestions?"

Realizing that his fear is strong enough that he really does need her to be in control right now, Ana considers for a moment and then lifts his right hand to her lips, kissing the palm before repeating the gesture with his left hand and holding them both to say, "_These_ are mine. Understood?"

Christian's eyes are wide with excitement at the possibilities when he gulps, "Yes, ma'am."

Then cradling his face and drawing him into a lingering kiss, lets her lips brush against his as she commands, "And _this_ is mine."

Catching on very quickly, this time Christian only nods a little. Next, holding his fervent gaze with hers, she almost brutally clamps a hand over his crotch, his willingness to follow her lead evident in the fact that one hand isn't enough to contain him, and adamantly declares, "And _this_ will always be mine. Agreed?"

His eyes almost rolling back in his head with pleasure at her aggressive play, Christian again grips the edge of the counter as he rather breathlessly promises, "Wholeheartedly, Mrs. Grey."

Making it up as she goes along, Ana considers for a moment before saying, "Remove my dress. Do _not_ touch my skin."

With a fierce grin, Christian does exactly as he's told. Now clad in only garter belt, stockings, high heels and increasingly moist panties, Ana lets him devour her with his eyes, until she's desperate for more, and instructs, "Caress me, anywhere you please, but only with the backs of your hands."

Christian smiles, clearly happy with this plan, and starts with a tender affirmation of his love for her; one hand on the side of her face. Given his job, he should have soft hands. But years of training with Claude Bastille means that his knuckles are somewhat callused; something that Ana has always found sexy as hell. So this reminder of his strength caressing along her jawline means that it takes every ounce of will Ana has not to lean into the gesture.

When Christian then moves behind her, Ana knows she's in trouble. Because, as he kneels down, all she can see is her own reflection staring back at her from the vast wall mirror; a wanton woman, her nipples hard points of desire and the flush of heady arousal on her skin. It's enough that the touch of Christian's knuckles on the backs of both ankles drags a desperate moan from her lips. She can't see him, but she knows, and commands, "Stop smiling."

Still, she can hear that he's disobeying her when he says, "Yes, ma'am."

By the time his hands simultaneously reach the tops of her thighs, Ana is trembling with need. But he doesn't stop, merely skirting over her buttocks before continuing up her torso, teasing her sensitive ribs with a delicate touch. Finally forced to stand, Christian meets Ana's gaze in the mirror as he continues the tender onslaught. Drowning in pleasure, she closes her eyes as he then trails a line up her spine. When he reaches that vulnerable spot at the back of her neck, an explosion of rapture sends a shudder through her, and she hears his gasped reaction.

Giving them both a moment to calm down, Christian then slowly runs now trembling hands down the backs of her arms, leaving what feels like tiny fingers of fire in his wake. When he reaches her hands, he still obeys her orders, teasing her palms with only the backs of his fingernails, until she whimpers and confesses, "I don't _feel_ in control."

Smirking over her shoulder at their reflection, Christian teases, "Not as easy as you thought?"

Forcing her legs to obey her, Ana takes a small step away from him and turns, saying, "I didn't give you permission to speak."

For a second, she thinks he might break. Not that it matters. She's not the one who fears he might hurt her. But then Christian shocks her yet again when he takes a step back and lowers his gaze in deference to her. She wonders then if anyone has ever seen him do that. For a nanosecond, Elena's face appears in her mind, but she just as quickly banishes the image and focuses instead on this beautiful man; still ready to do anything for her. "Strip; everything except your shirt and boxers."

His eyes bright with excitement, Christian immediately complies. When he moves to hang up his jacket, Ana decides to have some fun. "Uh, uh. Dump it on the floor."

When he offers her a pained expression of entreaty, she manages to keep a straight face as she pointedly glances at the floor. With some flourish, her neat-freak man drops his Armani jacket on the tiles. Then undoing his bowtie, he's trying not to smile as he flings it aside without even looking where it falls. Then removing his shoes, one at a time, he flings them through the doorway to the bedroom. By the time he does similar with his socks, they're both grinning like children, a moment away from laughter.

But then his hands close on the belt and suddenly neither of them is smiling. Ana considers commanding him to use it on her. She can see how much he wants it. But senses that it's one step too far when he's so afraid of injuring her. So she only watches, her lips parted slightly as she pants her need for him, while Christian slowly undoes the buckle and slides the belt from the loops. And then he shocks her for the third time this evening when he offers it to her, clearly giving her permission to beat him. Nothing in her needs that, but she nervously asks, "Do you want me to?"

With a shrug, Christian says, "Not particularly. But I'd probably enjoy it if you're the one wielding it."

Shaking her head in opposition of the idea, Ana declares, "I'll never want to do that to you."

Apparently, it's the right answer, because Christian suddenly smiles and tosses it aside. Then the smoldering tension between them is back as he slowly steps out of his trousers and carelessly kicks them aside. Having thought of this part earlier, Ana grins and says, "Now go get the real handcuffs; the ones that need a key." When he immediately looks afraid of the idea, Ana gently reminds him, "Safewords."

"Yellow."

"What are your concerns?"

The hint of a grin confirming that he's not terrified of the idea, Christian says, "Putting aside the fact that footage of me roaming the halls in only boxers and a silk shirt would then exist?" But then he more seriously continues, "I'm worried that, if we use the real cuffs, you or the baby could get into trouble, and I won't be able to help you."

"It's not a real test if you can easily remove them, Christian. You're the one who said you want to get over this fear. But I don't need this. If you still do, I'm happy to consider options."

Christian thinks about it for a moment and then grimaces at whatever solution he's come up with and suggests, "The panic button? You could strap it to my wrist and we could leave the door unlocked."

He's clearly in earnest, so Ana manages not to laugh at the image of Taylor bursting in on her unconscious and Christian in cuffs. "Okay. We can do that. Now go fetch them."

A cheeky grin at her domineering tone and Christian salutes her before leaving. Warming to her role, pondering the implications of what that says about her, Ana retrieves the panic button from her nightstand and gets into position, facing the door, glad that Christian always keeps the bedroom and playroom warm in the evenings. He soon returns, panting slightly from exertion, and is stunned into stillness at the sight of Ana sprawled on the chaise lounge, one knee bent and an arm resting behind her head, accentuating her bare breasts, and he exclaims, "God, you're beautiful."

Smiling her victory, because she'd known he wouldn't be able to avoid complimenting her, Ana sits up as she says, "You spoke." Holding out a hand for the cuffs, she commands, "Come here."

Playing his part, Christian looks suitably chastened as he approaches and puts the steel handcuffs and key in her hand. Genuinely having fun now that he no longer seems afraid, Ana says, "Good boy. Now turn around, hands behind your back." He does so without hesitation. Still concerned for him, given that this fear has existed for a very long time, Ana asks, "You're sure about this?"

"No." It's clear he was mostly joking when Christian immediately adds, "Yes. I feel all right; nothing like the panic that used to grip me at the idea. Whatever Flynn did with those memory regressions seems to be working on other phobias, too."

"I guess that makes sense." Then holding his hands in hers, she asks, "What will you do if it's getting too much?"

"Yellowred."

Her hands trembling slightly at the magnitude of what they're about to attempt, Ana first tightens the panic button around his wrist as she says, "Hold this down for a couple of seconds in an emergency."

"Yes, ma'am."

Willing her voice to remain more steady than her hands, Ana says, "I'm about to put the cuffs on now. I'll do so very slowly, okay?"

"Thank you, ma'am."

His clipped monotone confirming that the fear is back, Ana carefully lets the cold metal touch his left wrist. When he only tenses in response, but says nothing, she wraps the cuff around his limb, ready to desist at any time. A shudder goes through his body, but Christian holds firm. So she clicks it shut, making sure it's fairly loose. He's now breathing faster, but nowhere near the panic that she's seen in him during some of the sessions with Flynn. Still wary, Ana waits several seconds before slowly repeating the process with his right wrist. "How are you doing?"

Taking a few seconds to compose himself, Christian then says, in wonder, "Surprisingly good. Thank you, baby…ma'am."

"Face me."

Carefully appraising Christian's expression, Ana sees excitement, perhaps a little fear, but nothing like panic. Her chest aching with pride, that he's come so far in only a matter of months – admittedly also of intensive therapy – she permits the love into her voice when she commands, "Kneel."

His joyful grin confirming that he's guessed her intent, Christian drops to his knees on the plush carpet. Already trembling in anticipation, Ana reclines on the lounge – chosen because it's low enough to give him access to her entire body – and drapes her arms behind her head as she asks, "Do you want me?"

"Fuck, yes…yes, ma'am; very much."

Smiling at his earnest answer, Ana closes her eyes as she instructs him, "Show me, but stay on your knees."

Having guessed that the first touch of his mouth would be on her breasts, Ana's eyes fly open in surprise when Christian's lips touch hers. Turning her head towards him and again closing her eyes as she loses herself in the gesture, she feels a sudden need to thread her fingers through his luxurious hair, but resists the urge, instead gripping her hands together, as if she too is bound.

When Christian finally lifts his head, his expression is one of pure bliss. Smiling slightly, he kisses Ana's cheek, then her nuzzles her exposed armpit; the exquisite torture of that sensation eliciting a moan from her and curling her toes. Still with that infuriating half-smile, as if he's actually in control – and perhaps he is – Christian then kisses around her right breast, avoiding the nipple, until Ana is ready to order it.

Only then does his mouth close on the eager bud, and she moans again at the contact, as liquid fire courses through her body. With his lips, tongue and teeth, he keeps her hovering on the brink of orgasm, but never lets her fall over. Any illusion that being the one with the key gives her control is shattered then and there. When he finally breaks contact, Ana angles her body, so that he can bestow the same blessing on her left breast. Grinning, Christian does exactly that, until she's again lost in sensation; writhing and squirming beneath his expert caress.

When Christian finally ends this tender onslaught on her senses, Ana opens her eyes to see that he's moving, still on his knees. When he stops and takes the top of a stocking in his teeth, she anticipates and eagerly assists him by freeing the clasps. Then lifting her leg slightly Ana marvels that it actually feels like he's caressing her as he drags the silk from her body and drops it, never actually touching her. Now at her feet, Christian smiles up at Ana, even as he plants an almost chaste kiss on her now bare toes.

It's the smile of a man with lecherous intent, so Ana knows she's in trouble, even before Christian's mouth closes on her big toe. Unwilling to let him so easily win, she bites down on her bottom lip in a bid to stop the needy moan that she can feel building within her, and is rewarded by his guttural utterance of desire. Still, it's a short-lived victory when Christian then closes his eyes to focus on teasing each of her toes with his mouth. Squirming again, slave to his expert ministrations, Ana tolerates it as best she can until his teeth nip her instep, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her already throbbing groin, and her back arches off the lounge as she cries, "Enough!"

A somewhat bewildered Christian, looking almost as if he's in a trance, asks, "Ma'am?"

Taking a moment to calm her breathing enough for conversation, Ana gasps, "Do you still fear hurting me?"

Surprise suffuses his face and then Christian smiles and says, "No, ma'am. Guess I just needed to get horny enough to override it."

Showing the key, Ana entreats, "Then can you please just fuck me? I'm dying here."

Chuckling, Christian rises to his feet and turns his back so that she can uncuff him, then jokes, "Pregnant women survives brain surgery, only to die from lack of cock."

Ana sits up and scoots closer to unlock the cuffs, pleased that there are no red marks on Christian's wrists, as she laughs and says, "Hey, I'm pretty sure that's a recognized medical condition."

Turning and again dropping to his knees before her, Christian wraps his arms around Ana and asks, "Called?"

"Uh, lustitus?"

Christian nods his approval and pulls her closer as he says, "Not bad. What about 'Chronic Enforced Celibacy'?"

This close, she can smell his arousal – that heady mixture of pheromone-filled sweat – and is literally dizzy with desire as she begs, "Christian, please."

His nostrils flaring as his need increases to match hers, Christian breathes, "Shirt on or off?"

Not willing to wait a moment longer than necessary, Ana hisses, "On, like the first time."

Christian groans at that and deftly removes her other stocking and panties. Ana, on instinct, lays back down, her legs hanging over the edge. Suddenly, her hips are being lifted up. She giggles on realizing that Christian is putting the throw rug beneath her, and he protests, "Hey, this is a genuine Victorian period piece."

Blissfully happy, Ana teases, "Sometimes I think _you're_ a genuine Victorian piece; you're an antique, Mr. Grey."

With a feral grin, Christian growls, "Right! I was going to go easy on you, given your _delicate_ condition, but a man can only take so much."

In this moment ready for anything, Ana spreads her knees and reaches behind her to grip the arm of the chaise lounge as she dares, "Prove it."

Certain that he wouldn't be able to wait a second longer for the joy of being inside her, Ana is amazed yet again by Christian's control when he almost leisurely reaches out to tweak her nipples, actually making her jump at the sudden, intense pleasure. He covers the increasingly large mounds of flesh with his hands, teasing them to peaks of arousal as he says, "I like what this pregnancy is doing to your body, Mrs. Grey."

Ana laughs and asks, "Do all men like big boobs?"

Christian chuckles and says, "Well, that too. But I was actually talking about the fact that you're becoming even more responsive to me. And your clit! It's like you have a permanent mini-erection going on down here."

Embarrassed by the explicit nature of his "compliment", Ana blushes and says, "You're not a nice man, Mr. Grey."

Only then does she recognize the voice of the man she loves in his flint-edged reply. "No, I'm not."

Without another word, Christian drops his boxers only enough to free his erection and, instead of pushing forward, almost cruelly clutches Ana's hips and drags her achingly slowly onto him; both of them sighing at the exquisite rightness of the moment after so long without it. Her legs wrap around him as if with a will of their own, her feet hooking behind his thighs. Even with her back actually hanging off the end of the sofa, Ana is in no fear of falling. Now supporting her with an iron grip under her buttocks, Christian slowly moves within her, until time stops and earthly concerns recede. Inevitably lost to pure, carnal sensation, Ana forgets even who she is. Only one fact remains to anchor her consciousness; as her body is rocked by an orgasm powerful enough to remove any trace of humanity from her, leaving only a primal being satiated by lust, she screams out what is, in that moment, her reason for existing, "Christian!"

It seems eternity, but can only be seconds, when consciousness begins to return. Ana answers the ache in her shoulders by releasing her strained grip on the furniture. She's somehow again lying mostly on the chaise lounge and Christian's head is resting on her abdomen, just above the baby bump, his waning erection still inside her. When she runs her fingers through his hair, he shows his smiling face and asks, "Worth the wait?"

Laughing, that even his anxious side would think anything else, Ana says, "Yes. But let's never wait that long again."

Apparently appeased by that answer, he returns his head to her bare torso as he says, "Fine by me." Then shuffling a little, so that he can run a hand over her belly, he kisses it and mutters, "Sorry, Blip, but you'd better get used to it. Mommy likes cock."


	26. Chapter 26

Author's technical difficulties: Just a short one. But my internet is dropping out for several hours at a time, so thought I'd better post what I've got. For the same reason, some comments may not have received my reply, and the next chapter may be a while. Tech is coming out on Saturday, so hopefully all will be well soon. Thank you, for reading.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-six

It's Wednesday morning and Ana wakes up feeling well rested and deliciously sore in all the right places. She and Christian hadn't fucked twenty-six times, but she certainly felt like they'd made up for their enforced drought. Blushing at the memory of how Christian had – once he got over his fear of hurting her or the baby – shown her in so many different ways that he found her changing body _very_ attractive, Ana ponders how it never feels embarrassing in the moment, only the next morning.

Not surprisingly, given that he'd exhausted himself bringing pleasure to both of them, her husband is still fast asleep beside her, and she prays that his nightmares left him alone for a few hours. Looking around, it's evident that he tidied while she slept, and Ana smiles at the memory of forcing him to be messy for a moment last night. It had been fun being the one calling the shots for a change, but nothing in that role thrilled her like it does to follow his lead. Just the thought of it is enough to stir the passion within her, and she stares at his perfect profile as she realizes that there is one more benefit to her working from home; morning sex.

Suddenly, her reverie is broken by the baby moving; a real movement, not those little flutters that felt like a tiny goldfish swimming inside her. Afraid that it might stop at any moment, and not wanting Christian to miss out, she reaches out blindly to grab him and unfortunately slaps his face. "What the…? Fuck, Ana." From softly snoring to alert in only moments, he then asks, "What's wrong?"

Putting a finger to her lips, she points at her belly. She sees the comprehension on his face as he slides a hand under the covers and onto her abdomen. She knows he feels it too when, as the baby moves again, his gaze jumps to hers, his expression filled with wonder, and he whispers, "Our baby."

Almost too happy for words, Ana smiles and just as quietly echoes, "Our baby."

They just lie like that for a while, and the baby eventually settles down. Then cradling Ana in his arms, Christian kisses her forehead and asks, "First time?"

"Uh, huh. First time I've noticed, anyway. I suppose it could have happened while I was asleep." He's so quiet, for so long, that she asks, "You okay?"

Lifting her gaze to his, Christian reveals the excess moisture in his eyes as he promises, "Ecstatic." Suddenly sitting up, he grabs her hand as he excitedly says, "Come with me. I wanna try something."

Laughing in shared joy at his enthusiasm, Ana protests, "Christian, I've just woken up, I'm naked, and I need to pee."

Undaunted, Christian says, "Then hurry up and throw something on. I'll be at the piano."

Of course, the music filling the apartment by the time she's finished in the bathroom means that such direction wasn't necessary. Ana knows Christian won't begrudge her the time it takes to have a snack and drink of water. Then she dons her silk robe before joining him. He's wearing only his pajama pants and she's transported back to another time, seemingly so long ago, though it's only been months, and she just drinks in the sight of him for a while. Somehow sensing her presence, Christian looks up and motions her over. Smiling, she approaches and asks, "So, what's this about?"

Motioning that she should sit beside him, Christian explains, "Research. Apparently, in-utero babies prefer fast paced music, of any sort, and will even remember their favorites after birth. Now that Blip is moving, we can work out what they like. You can do the same with your music belt."

He's so excited that she's is finding it difficult not to just laugh in celebration. Worried that he might think she's laughing _at_ him, Ana limits her reaction to an apparently permanent smile and says, "Okay, Prof, what do I do?"

With a quick kiss, he says, "Just sit there and tell me if the baby starts moving."

"Yes, Sir."

Kissing her again, a bit longer this time, he orders, "And cut that out. You haven't had breakfast."

Still unable to lose the smile, Ana asks, "But it's okay to experiment on our baby before I've eaten?"

Unrepentant, Christian teases, "The baby is inside you, so I'm afraid you're necessary for this part of the process. Besides, you taste like blueberries, so I know you're not starving. Now keep still."

Still struggling not to break out in happy laughter, Ana puts a hand on her belly and relaxes as Christian starts a lively tune that she soon recognizes as "My Sharona" by _The Knack_. Sure enough, the baby starts moving again, so she taps Christian's arm. Thrilled, he stops playing and puts both hands on her belly to detect the fetal gymnastics. When they again subside, he returns to the keys and starts a slow tune that Ana knows almost instantly: "Bridge Over Troubled Water". This stirs the baby, too. A couple more tunes – one by Mozart and then by Vivaldi – and it's soon evident that any music works. Shaking his head, Christian lifts Ana onto his lap as he says, "Crap. I'm not sure if this is a success or failure."

Ana finally laughs and points out, "And we don't even know if the movements express like or dislike."

Obviously disappointed, Christian pouts, "Well, fuck, we might as well have breakfast."

Grinning, Ana teases, "Do you think they hear everything?"

Not sounding _very_ upset, Christian growls, "Don't fucking start. I'm doing the best I can. 'Fuck' was probably the first word I ever heard, in and out of the womb."

Genuinely proud of him, despite the fact that he effectively just proved her point, Ana says, "You're doing fantastically. I almost can't believe you've gone from panicked to paternal in only a matter of months."

With that modest shrug that is now poignantly familiar to her, Christian says, "Yeah, well, I still have a lot to make up for. And I told you; I can't fuck this up."

"You won't. You're already a success, just because you care."

"Thank you, baby." Then staring at Ana as his expression changes from love to lust, Christian eventually asks, "Do you have to start work at a particular time?"

Surprised and pleased that they're back to sexy again, Ana merely smiles and shakes her head.

* * *

Her oncologist, Carl Renner, warmly greets Ana and Christian, inviting them to sit, even as he does so. Without preamble, he says, "Good news, across the board. There appears to be no complications from the surgery, and all of your tests and scans are clear." Suddenly more serious, he continues, "Now, you know this doesn't mean you're cured, right?"

It's Ana who answers, "Yes, you said. Dolores could come back, even though nothing is showing up on the MRI or other tests. But Christian and I would still prefer to hold our baby before I start radiotherapy."

Then looking to Christian, who only nods his agreement, Renner says, "Well, do either of you have any questions for me?"

Christian defers to Ana, but she shrugs, so he says, "What about air travel?"

As one, Ana and Renner ask, "Air travel?"

When Christian offers no explanation, Renner nervously glances between them before asking, "Uh, is it urgent?"

"Only in that Pam Greene says it's a bad idea in the third trimester. She's already given her approval, on the understanding that we'll be traveling with a nurse qualified to perform both neurological and fetal monitoring."

"Well, there's no air trapped at the wound site, which would be a huge concern. If you take all precautions, and I'm confident you will, it should be all right. But I'd still prefer you wait a couple of weeks, just in case."

"Perfect. Thank you. Oh, what about the…" Then pointing to Ana's head, before touching his own, Christian's panic center catches up with what he's saying and he has to swallow before continuing, "The screws in Ana's skull? Will they be a problem at airports?"

"Shouldn't be. They're titanium and small enough that they won't set off even the most sensitive of metal detectors. But I'll send you a detailed explanation of Ana's condition, to carry with you, just in case there are any issues."

With no other questions from the couple and a slight tension in the room, Renner soon says his goodbyes. They're not even out of the building when Ana plants her feet and repeats, "Air travel?"

Unconcerned, Christian takes her in his arms and says, "Not a secret, baby; a surprise. If I tell you, it won't be any longer."

Somewhat appeased – she really does enjoy Christian's surprises – Ana pouts, "Well, for how long?"

"Just a couple of weeks. You need a break…fuck, even our security detail need a break. Oh, one thing; can you stand Carla in a vacation type situation for that long?"

"My Mom? We're going on vacation with my Mom?"

Again taking her hand and leading her towards the door, Christian lowers his voice to say, "Yes, and we'll continue this in the car. Things are bad enough now without advertising our movements."

Once they're safe in the car, Ana pronounces, "Yes."

"You can tolerate your Mom for that long?"

Ana laughs and says, "Of course I can. But I meant, yes, I agree with you; we need a break. Not that it apparently matters what I think."

Grinning, Christian says, "No, it doesn't. But, thank you."

"Are you going to tell me where we're going?"

Christian considers for a few seconds and says, "Not yet. I want to keep the surprise for a bit longer."

Ana considers the chances of extracting the secret from him, quickly deciding that it's not worth even trying. Instead, she asks, "What about Bob?"

"He can't get away. And we all agreed that this is a time for some mother and daughter bonding."

Still pouting slightly, Ana complains, "Everyone except me, it seems."

Brushing the tip of his thumb over her bottom lip, Christian murmurs, "God, what I could do to that lip."

As always, helpless to resist Christian when he's in such a playful, flirtatious mood, Ana's pique is kept to a mock glare and, "Too bad you have work."

Gently kissing her, he then says, "Yes, it's a little distracting knowing that you're at home every day. Maybe I should start coming home for lunch."

"Do you even stop for lunch?"

Smiling at her cleverness, he says, "Only if it's also a business meeting. I usually just eat at my desk. But, I can change."

It's an ongoing theme between them when Ana asks, "Not too much, I hope?"

"Just enough to be a halfway decent husband and father. Oh, I worked out why I had to give the ten reasons."

"Oh?"

Putting a hand on her belly, he says, "You had to be sure that I wasn't choosing fatherhood just so you'll stay with me."

Almost in tears, an unfortunately common state as her pregnancy progresses, Ana whispers, "Yes. I was only sure after your tenth reason."

"I mean it, you know? I'm not sure I did at first…not completely, anyway." Then looking at where his hand is caressing affectionate circles over their baby, Christian says, "But, somewhere along the way, it became true. I really do love Little Blip." With a wry grin, he adds, "Which is bringing up a whole new set of fears. But Flynn is nipping them in the bud, and assures me that fear for my child's safety is actually a good sign."

"I think so, too. Thank you."

"For?"

"Loving our child."

With a carefree smile, Christian says, "They're half you. How could I not?"

Again struggling to contain her happy tears, Ana asks, "Can I please get through one day without crying?"

Christian chuckles and says, "I doubt it."

* * *

Christian is at his computer, lost in a virtual world, at Grey House when Andrea knocks on the door and enters – one of the few people in the world permitted to do so – and drops a couple of papers on his desk as she reminds him, "You said that you were taking an early lunch?"

Cursing himself for losing track of time, Christian shuts his computer and says, "Oh, right. Thanks." Unable to keep the grin from his face, he reveals, "Ana's working from home until things settle down, so I thought I'd surprise her."

Andrea also smiles and says, "And how is Mrs. Grey? Linda says we still get several phone calls a day from reporters posing as all sorts of people." When Christian's brow furrows in concern at this, she quickly adds, "She knows what to do."

Losing the frown, Christian says, "Mrs. Grey is very well, thank you. She's eating like a horse and napping sometimes twice a day…oh, you don't need to mention that I said that, if you talk to her."

A small laugh and Andrea says, "Of course not, sir. Will you be back later?"

"Yes. Forward any important calls to my cell. Otherwise, I'll deal with it when I get back."

"Yes, sir."

Eager, as ever, to see his wife, Christian has already texted Reynolds that he's heading for home. So his current bodyguard is waiting by the open door of the car as Christian exits the elevator into the parking garage. Of course, they have their share of paparazzi to deal with, but Reynolds is experienced and merely edges the car through the cameras – that have no hope of penetrating the tinted rear windows – before zipping away at a barely legal speed that would make it difficult for anyone to follow; weaving his way through the rain, on a circuitous route to Escala, where they unfortunately have to again push through a group of photographers. So Christian's mood is as dark as the weather by the time the elevator pings his arrival at the apartment.

Hearing voices in the kitchen, he heads that way, soon realizing that the man talking to Ana is someone unfamiliar. Immediately wary, he stealthily enters to see a young man sitting at the breakfast counter, unashamedly staring at Ana's ass while she retrieves something from the refrigerator as she asks, "Diet, or regular?"

"Diet, thanks."

The guy immediately sits up straight as Ana turns, so he won't be caught ogling. Of course, she sees Christian, and his growing anger is somewhat appeased by her obvious delight on seeing him. "Christian! What a lovely surprise. What on earth are you doing home so early?"

All this time, Christian's attention is fixed on the now frightened interloper.

_Yeah, you should be frightened, you fucker. _

A smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes and Christian approaches as he says, "Thought I'd dine at home today, with my _wife_." Barely suppressed rage simmering just below the surface, he claims a kiss from Ana that would make a whore blush. Then turning a withering gaze on their "guest", his voice is deathly calm as he adds, "But I see that you're busy."

A crimson flush of embarrassment and passion on her face, Ana stammers, "Uh, Christian, this is B…Ben; you met the last time you came to the office. Hannah is off with the flu, and Ben kindly offered to assist for today. "

Remembering him now – American-born of Korean parents, twenty-three years old, no criminal record, started at what was then SIP in 2005 – Christian accepts the offered hand and deliberately exerts a bruising pressure as he coolly says, "Ah, yes; Benjamin Huan, right? How are you enjoying your _job_ at Grey Publishing?"

He can see that Ben has got the message. After all, this now terrified young man doesn't know that Christian has promised his wife that he'll stay out of her work concerns. Ben flexes the pain from his crushed hand as he says, "Uh, yes, I like it very much…I mean, it's a good job, thank you." Then turning his scared rabbit gaze on Ana, he says, "Speaking of which, I'd better get back."

"What about your drink?"

Not even game now to look at Christian, Ben tells Ana, "No, that's okay, thank you. I'll, uh, see you on Monday...at work."

About to offer to walk the guy out, so he can really let him know the score, Christian is thwarted by Ana's, "Taylor!"

The man in question appears, making Christian wonder where he'd been lurking, and says, "Mrs. Grey?"

"Would you please escort Ben to the elevator?"

"Yes, ma'am." Nodding to Christian, Taylor acknowledges "Sir," before motioning for Ben to precede him out the door.

The second the two men are out of sight, Ana turns her furious gaze on him, so Christian guesses he's in big trouble. Knowing that he's in the right this time, because she doesn't have all the information, he holds his hands up to forestall her tirade and says, "Before you take my head off, the guy was undressing you with his eyes while your back was turned."

Mimicking his tone, she quotes, "Undressing you with his eyes." Throwing up her hands in despair, she then practically slams the soda can on the counter as she says, "God, Grey, you're not Victorian, you're medieval! What the fuck does it matter if he's gawking at me? Nothing is going to happen. You _know_ that."

Wondering how she can be so obtuse, when she knows him better than anyone does, Christian's anger rises to meet hers, though he keeps his tone moderate as he says, "It matters because you're _mine_. And no pimply-fucking-faced youth gets to stare at you like he wants to take you up the ass over this very counter."

Her mouth drops open in shock at this brutal imagery. Now literally shaking with rage, Ana manages to breathe some calm into her body and says, "I _am_ yours, Christian. You know very well that I've never even considered being with anyone else. That's why it hurts me when you do something like this and prove yet again that you still don't trust me!" Her voice rising to almost a shout on the last few words and her hands unconsciously curling into fists at her side, confirms that she's _very_ upset, but she almost immediately forces her body to relax again and waits for his reply.

Utterly confused, Christian shakes his head and reassures her, "But I _do_ trust you, baby. It's _him_ I don't fucking trust. What if he got it into his perverted little mind that he could do more than look?"

Crossing her arms in the international sign of a thoroughly pissed off woman, Ana says, "Go on, tell me what would happen."

"What?"

"Tell me what would happen if Ben…let's say, grabbed my ass?"

Pure, red rage flooding his vision at the very thought, Christian means every word when he spits out, "I'd rip his fucking arm off and beat him to death with it."

Her manner clearly indicating that she's won the argument, Ana calmly asks, "And if you're not here to perpetrate this bloodthirsty display of testosterone fuelled overkill?"

It's one of his biggest fears, and has only increased since she fell pregnant; that someone might try something inappropriate with Ana when he's not around to protect her, and he can only splutter, "I'd fucking…fuck." Finally, the inevitable dissipation of his anger shows him the truth – though her lessons with Claude are on hold since they learned of the tumor, Christian knows that Ana wasn't exaggerating when she said that Ray taught her self-defense – and he smiles before saying, "You'd kick his scrawny little ass."

"Exactly."

When Ana only stands there, silently daring him to do the right thing, Christian hesitates only long enough to get the wording right before saying, "I'm sorry, baby. I understand now that my paranoid reaction to that fucker ogling what's mine may have been perceived by you as a lack of faith in your ability to look after yourself. I trust you to fend off any unwanted advances, and I _know_ that they will always be unwanted."

He can tell that it's worked when Ana's shoulders relax a little and she's trying not to smile as she asks, "This is going to happen again, isn't it?"

Recognizing it as forgiveness, Christian laughs his relief and says, "Probably. And I'll apologize then, too." Daring to approach, he rests his hands on her hips and asks, "Can we eat, now?"

"No; absolutely not. You show up, unannounced, kiss me like _that_, piss me off and then want lunch? I don't think so, Mr. Grey."

Unable to keep the slight grin from his face, Christian exaggerates rolling his eyes and asks, as if under a reluctant burden of duty, "I have to fuck you again, don't I?"

Grinning, as she finally unfolds her arms, sliding her hands up his chest and over his shoulders to lock them in place behind his neck, Ana suddenly jumps up, knowing that Christian will catch and assist her. Legs now wrapped around his waist, she declares, "Abso-fucking-lutely."


	27. Chapter 27

Author's note: Still having problems with internet connection, so I'll post what I've got while I can.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-seven

"Why was Benjamin fucking Huan in this apartment and I didn't know about it?"

His posture rigid in defense, Taylor nevertheless doesn't flinch as he says, "Because informing you would have been a waste of your time and mine."

They've been together long enough that Christian's anger at this insubordination is kept to a clipped, "Explain yourself."

"Your current orders regarding Mrs. Grey are that I'm to keep her safe in this apartment, and take another of our team with me to ensure her safety when she's on the move. When Mrs. Grey let me know that her assistant was ill and that Mr. Huan would be taking their place for now, I assessed the risk and decided it was minimal. Just in case I was wrong, I've been within earshot the entire time. Even then, I was that far away only after being ordered to stand down." With a slight smile, Taylor concludes, "Apparently, I was 'hovering' too much."

"So, you don't trust the fucker, either?"

"No, sir. A clean background check does not necessarily indicate a virtuous mind. But I believe he's harmless, or he would never have got past the reception desk."

Imagining a pissed off Ana ordering Taylor to leave the room, so her colleague would feel more at ease, Christian at first smiles, then shakes his head and says, "She still thinks everyone is basically good."

Relaxing somewhat, Taylor says, "I would think that you, of all people, would not begrudge her that trait."

Finally at ease, Christian laughs and says, "True enough. Any suggestions what to do about Huan?"

"I suggest you do nothing, sir. I don't know exactly what happened when you got here, but that kid was just about shitting his pants when I saw him out. I don't think he'll even be able to face Ana for a while, let alone consider anything that would earn him a black eye at her hands."

Chuckling at the image, Christian then frowns and says, "He was surreptitiously checking her out, the cheeky fucker, so I made it known that I didn't approve. And, yes, Ana also reprimanded me for not trusting her to take care of herself." Running a frustrated hand through his hair, he then continues, "I just…fuck, I know she could just about kick _my_ ass if it came to that, but I can't not worry about her twenty-four hours a day. It's not in me."

Eyeing his boss speculatively, Taylor asks, "Another suggestion, sir?" At Christian's wary nod, he says, "Give yourself a fucking break. In the short time Ana's been with us, you've achieved an almost miraculous transformation. The man who pursued her all the way to Georgia is not the man before me now."

Everyone close to him has said something similar, so Christian inclines his head in modest agreement and says, "Yeah, Ana says that, too. And frequently asks that I not change too much. Can you believe it?"

With a knowing smile, Taylor says, "I can. She fell in love with that guy who couldn't let her go."

Actually feeling better about himself, Christian concedes, "Yeah, I guess so." Smiling, he then says, "Enough about me. Have you given any thought to my offer? What did your _real_ boss say?"

Smiling at the last few words, Taylor says, "Gail and I would be thrilled to use the new house for the wedding and reception, thank you. It's proving quite difficult to find a venue during the festive season."

Clapping his hands once in celebration, Christian says, "Excellent! When?"

With a grimace, Taylor asks, "Is New Year's too soon?"

With a wide grin, Christian reassures him, "Considering I organized my own reception in two days, it's almost too long. I'll already contracted a wedding planner, hoping that you'd agree. I'll have her call Gail and get the ball rolling. And don't even think about trying to pay for anything."

Whatever protest Taylor was about to utter is put on hold when Ana knocks lightly on the door of Christian's study. She nods a greeting to Taylor and says to Christian, "Couldn't wait for me, huh?"

Standing and holding out one arm in welcome, Christian draws Ana to his side and quickly kisses her before saying, "I waited. Jason and I were discussing another matter."

Immediately wary, Ana asks, "What have you done? I told you that I can handle men like Ben."

Smiling at her perhaps justified mistrust, Christian explains, "That's the conclusion we came to, as well. The matter is closed."

Appeased, Ana says, "Oh. Well, that's good. Thank you. Want to do the honors?"

"We both can. But shouldn't Gail be here for this, too?"

"You're right." Ana releases Christian and texts Gail.

"Sir?"

Smiling, Christian says to Taylor, "You'll just have to wait."

Gail soon enters, drying her hands on her apron. When she looks to Taylor, he only shrugs, so she asks, "Something wrong?"

Christian picks up the large envelope from his desk and offers a corner to Ana. Together, they pass it to Gail as he explains, "You've both been so amazing recently, going above and beyond your already extensive duties. So we've decided that we're not taking either of you on this upcoming trip. Instead, we'd like you to have a real vacation; two weeks with nothing to worry about but what to order from room service."

With slightly trembling hands, Gail accepts the envelope and opens it with Taylor looking over her shoulder. Suddenly wondering if it's too much, when neither of them react, Ana says, "_Please_ accept it. You've been so good to us. We just want to let you know how much we appreciate you. I know it's traditional to have the honeymoon _after_ the wedding, but it's the twenty-first century, so we thought…"

She doesn't finish. Gail lifts her head to reveal a tear-filled smile and says "I've never been to Hawaii," as Taylor embraces her.

Relieved that their gift has been well received, Ana again slips her arm around Christian's waist, and then has to release him as Gail, still weeping grateful tears, reaches out for her. As the women embrace, Taylor shakes Christian's hand, saying, "Thank you, sir. I didn't dare hope for two whole weeks. Gail was hoping to go to Hawaii, but it didn't seem worth it if we couldn't get more time off."

As always, uncomfortable with emotional displays, Christian merely says, "You're welcome. You've earned it." As the women release each other, and smiles abound, he continues, "Something else; once we all move into the new place, I want to put you in charge of in-house security. It's essentially the same role you have now – full autonomy and seniority over the team – but you'll no longer have to also shadow me everywhere I go. It'll be much like what you've been doing this week, except you'll be working almost normal hours, including vacation time, and you won't have to follow Ana when she goes shopping." With a wide grin, he concludes, "Though I suspect that you'll have to start accompanying Gail."

Again drawing Gail into his arms, Taylor says, "Maybe I won't mind that so much. Seriously, thank you; both of you. My job has never allowed the luxury of normal hours and regular vacations."

Feigning indignation, Christian says, "Hardly regular, Jason; you'll be flying first class and staying at a five star resort."

Taylor laughs – Ana realizing only in that moment that she doesn't hear that sound nearly often enough – and says, "My mistake; an _irregular_ vacation, then."

Smiling, Christian says, "There's one more thing."

At Gail's sharp intake of breath, they all look at her and she blushes, saying, "Sorry; not sure I can take much more of this."

Christian chuckles and says, "I'm afraid you'll have to. Ana and I intend to let you both know how much we appreciate you." Unveiling the architectural plans, he announces, "Elliot's final draft of what will be your living quarters. It took some doing, and obviously your rooms will be smaller than those in the main house, but he's managed to make it a fairly luxurious three-bedroom residence; master, guest and…" When they all lean in, it's to see that Christian's finger is pointing to the words _Sophie's Room_. When Gail and Taylor both look to him for confirmation, he explains, "She can stay with us whenever it suits both of you and Jennifer, including after school and on weekends. I'd like…_we'd_ like, our kids to grow up together, if that works for you."

Gail hiccups a sob and buries her face in Taylor's chest. Even the big man himself is clearly moved, though not to tears. His voice is strained, as if with great emotion, when he says, "Yes, that'll work for us, thank you."

Christian is smiling at them when Ana takes his hand. When he glances at her, she nods towards the door. Catching on, he says, "Right. We'll leave you to it. This copy of the plans is for you. Obviously, we can make minor adjustments if something doesn't suit, but we can discuss that later. Let us know when dinner is ready. No hurry."

Gail doesn't even lift her head to say, "Thank you."

* * *

Ana is woken by gentle kisses on her eyelids, then lips, and Christian softly crooning, "_Dear Ana, won't you open up your eyes? Dear Ana, won't you let me see you smile?_"

Wondering how she could have had the misfortune to fall for a morning person, she bites back her "Fuck off" reply and instead protests, "How can you acknowledge my need for rest, then wake me at…" Glancing at the clock, she almost screams, "Fuck! Six in the morning on a Saturday! Are you insane?"

Unrepentant, Christian grins and says, "Flynn says no. But I'm sure we could get a second opinion that would contradict him. Come on, Adorable Ana; we're heading to the airport."

"What? Why? We're not leaving until next week."

"True. But someone is arriving this morning, and we need to greet them."

Sitting up, because she knows all too well that Christian won't be stopped when he's in this excited, happy mood, Ana grumbles, "And I suppose you're not going to tell me who it is?"

"Nope. Hurry up. The skies are relatively clear, but winter has arrived a little early, so dress warm. And grab a snack. We'll have breakfast when we get back, and then head straight back out again to miss the crowds."

Even with Christian hovering, it doesn't take Ana long to follow those instructions: black stretch slacks over support leggings, a venetian-red sweater dress and her recently acquired – courtesy of Christian stocking her closet with designer clothes suitable for her fuller figure – black nautical coat from Balenciaga Vault. By that time Christian is ready in jeans, rust sweater and full-length black woolen coat, and waiting with gloves and a warm hat for her.

Underway in the minivan Christian has hired for the purpose, and still sleepy, Ana leans against his shoulder and guesses, "It's my Mom, isn't it?"

Christian kisses her temple and says, "And Bob, yes. You're still far too clever. Everyone's coming over for movie night, but I thought you might enjoy your mother being here for our vacation shopping spree. With your help, I'm hoping to persuade Carla to let us buy _her_ a new wardrobe, too."

"It's worth a try. But she…we…I'd known Kate a while before she realized that, when I said that I didn't have any money, it did _not_ mean that I hadn't had time to withdraw cash from my account. Bob's business is doing well, but they're both proud people. You could have your work cut out for you."

Undaunted, Christian smiles and says, "Perhaps. But I can be _very_ persuasive."

Lifting her face for a kiss, which he readily bestows on her, Ana then says, "True." Again resting her head on him, she mutters, "Wake me when we get there."

Ana doesn't quite manage to doze on the way. And the bracing November air is enough that she's well and truly awake by the time they spot Carla and Bob. Having not seen her daughter in the flesh for a couple of months, Carla is volubly excited about everything; from Ana's glowing good health and burgeoning baby bump, to the joys of travelling in the GEH jet, and the fact that their overseas trip is only a week away. While the two women catch up, the guys take care of the luggage under Taylor's watchful eye. By the time they reach Escala, a few familiar faces of diehard paparazzi are gathered outside the parking garage. Thankfully, they don't know the vehicle, so everyone makes it into the building without incident.

After a sumptuous breakfast, they're getting ready to head out again when Ana notices Christian deep in conversation with Bob. She hangs back for a second, giving them privacy, but Christian sees her, smiles and motions her over to quietly reveal, "Bob's onboard; Carla doesn't stand a chance."

Realizing that he's talking about treating her Mom to an entire new travel wardrobe, Ana is genuinely pleased and bestows a kiss on Bob's cheek, saying, "Thank you. I've been dying for an excuse to really spoil her."

A little embarrassed by the unusual sign of affection, Bob says, "Yes, well, your Mom has often expressed regret that the two of you haven't had enough time together…ever. You're too sweet to hold it against her, and I doubt that one vacation will erase all her guilt, but I want her to have that chance. So I'm ready to do what I can to ensure this trip becomes a happy memory for both of you."

Crying her first happy tears of the day, Ana takes it one step further and actually hugs Bob for the first time since she's met him. She trusts that her husband is mostly joking when, after a few seconds, Christian cheerfully teases, "Okay, enough of that. You're both married."

It's exactly the right tone to make Ana laugh and she releases her current stepfather as she dries her eyes and says, "Thanks, Bob."

Clearly also moved by the new level of intimacy between them, Bob is obviously talking about more than just clothes shopping when he warmly promises, "Like Christian says, I'm onboard."

Travelling securely from one boutique fashion store to the next, it doesn't take Ana long to realize, "So, northern hemisphere?"

Christian smiles and says, "Yes. Have you guessed, yet?"

Ana thought she knew after the first shop assistant showed her garments from only the winter catalogue and she tentatively asks, "England?"

Christian's smile broadens and he confirms, "Yes."

Having been handed one of her life's dreams, Ana's cognitive powers desert her, leaving her mind blank for a second. Then she notices the look on Carla's face and says, "You knew."

"Yes, sweetie." Then turning to Christian, Carla smilingly explains, "Her apparent lack of gratitude is a good sign. It means she's too happy to form sentences."

"Yes, I'm aware of…" Whatever Christian had been going to say is cut off by Ana practically throwing herself at him. He laughs as he catches her in his arms, saying, "Whoa, baby, remember you're two people. The poor kid will wonder what the hell is happening."

Her face buried against his neck, Ana mutters, "They'll just have to get used to it, because I'm married to the most wonderful man in the world."

After a leisurely lunch downtown, and hours buying everything necessary for two weeks of a British winter, the tired but happy foursome and their minders are heading back to Escala; the guys amicably chatting about everything from fishing to football. Sitting behind them, arm in arm, the women are just enjoying the friendly atmosphere when Carla whispers, "Lord, how that man loves you."

Unable to discern her mother's tone, Ana offers a noncommittal, "Yes, he does."

Squeezing her daughter's hand a little tighter, Carla quietly reassures, "A good thing, sweetie. I worried…you seemed so completely enamored of him that I at first worried it was a little one-sided. But he's so attentive that I'm almost jealous. And something has changed. He seems…not more affectionate, exactly…."

When Carla stalls, Ana smiles and murmurs, "He's more relaxed. I decided to trust him. And somehow that means he's finally able to trust me, too; no longer worrying that I'm going to leave him."

Nodding, Carla whispers, "Yes, that's it. He used to look at you with an almost haunted expression. But now I see only love when he stares at you…he does that a lot, doesn't he?"

Ana giggles, prompting a glance and a smile from Christian before he returns to his conversation with Bob. "Unfortunately, yes; sometimes even when I'm sleeping." Suddenly serious, she softly asks, "So, you're not worried about us, anymore?"

With a gentle smile, Carla says, "I'm your mother; I'll always worry about you. But I no longer worry about you loving Christian too much. He's hooked."

Proving that he's been multitasking the entire time, Christian says, with a smile and a wink "Yes, I am," before again returning to his conversation.

* * *

Where Credit's Due: The song Christian wakes Ana with is his version of a couple of lines from "Dear Prudence" by The Beatles.


	28. Chapter 28

Author's note: Internet unreliability continues. So please forgive any inconsistencies in my replies or chapters.

A reminder that, as stipulated in the books, Ana's biological father was Franklin A. Lambert.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-eight

Their guests start filtering in as the allotted time approaches. Apparently enjoying his role as host immensely, Christian shows family and friends – Ana had eventually persuaded him to let even José attend – into the living room, then makes sure they have a drink and access to snacks before moving to the next.

Having been ordered by her husband to take it easy after their exhausting day shopping, Ana barely moves from the sofa, only standing to greet people as they arrive. When everyone is settled, Christian looks over the eager faces of their guests and waits until they quiet down before saying, "Thank you all for coming. Ana and I wanted to make sure you understand how grateful we are for your support through her illness. If you're here tonight it's because you're important to us." Then moving to Ana and offering her the remote control for the widescreen TV, his voice is heavy with emotion as he smiles at his wife and concludes, "And because we'd like you to meet our son."

A collective murmur of appreciation hums around the room, as everyone suddenly understands what "movie" they've been invited to watch. With no spare seats, Christian sits on the floor at Ana's feet, his head resting on her lap for the show. Just as excited as she'd been earlier in the week, watching the 3D/4D ultrasound while holding Christian's hand, Ana delightedly points out the few highlights; four intact limbs, ten fingers and toes, a reliable heart, the proof that they're having a son, and an adorable face with perfect features made vivid by modern technology. Not a word is spoken for the duration; Ana's chosen soundtrack "Godspeed", by the_ Dixie Chicks_, the only sound in the room.

When it's done, freezing on the photo of their literally (thanks to the color of the 3D image) golden child apparently peacefully sleeping, it's Grace who finally breaks the relative silence, wiping tears from her face as she simply says, "Please…again."

By the time fatigue is taking hold of her, Ana has lost track of how many times the video has played, or how many hands have eagerly felt her abdomen every time the baby moves, thankfully remembering to also acknowledge her. It's Carla who notices her daughter's need for rest and suddenly takes control, politely letting people know that movie night is over. With a permanent half smile at his mother-in-law's bossiness, Christian makes sure that everyone goes away with a copy of the ultrasound.

After saying goodbye to the last of his guests, he returns to the living room, only to be met by Carla holding one finger to her lips for silence. Then he sees her, his angel, asleep reclining on the sofa with her feet up and one hand resting on her mounded belly. Smiling, Christian quietly asks, "Bob?"

"Already in our room. Thank you, for letting us stay here. I know you can afford the best hotel for us, but I'd much rather be here with my baby girl."

Smiling, Christian says, "I figured." Then offering the crook of his arm, he adds, "I'll walk you up."

Carla hesitates, saying, "Ana asked me to be careful of…she says you don't like to be touched?" When Christian tenses, she quickly continues, "She didn't explain further; just didn't want me to make you uncomfortable."

Shrugging off his ingrained mistrust, Christian smiles and assures her, "I'm not." Taking Carla's hand and putting it inside his arm, he leads them both towards the stairs as he says, "In the past, it was true that being touched on the torso was a crippling fear of mine, and hopefully one day I'll get brave enough to tell you why. But your daughter's love has cured me even of that. Thank you, for Anastasia."

Struggling to maintain her composure, Carla's voice is strained as she reveals, "I wish I could take credit for her, but she's her father; his grace and compassion are evident in everything she does."

"Not everything." Frowning a little in confusion, Carla waits for an explanation and Christian says, "She has your strength."

It's too much for her, and Carla has to wipe tears from her eyes before continuing. At the door of the guest room, she turns and says, "Thank you, for that. I'm so glad she found you."

"Me, too. Unless you get up even earlier than I do, Gail will be in the kitchen when you wake. Just let her know what you'd like to eat."

"Thank you, Christian. Would it be impolite to ask what sign of affection, if any, you can tolerate?"

Finally uncomfortable, despite having genuinely enjoyed what, for him, should have been an excruciating amount of people in his home, Christian forces a smile and says, "How about we try for a kiss on the cheek and see what happens?"

Apparently, Ana also inherited her courtesy from Carla, because the older woman is careful to only touch her lips to Christian's cheek, not even resting a hand on his arm. "Goodnight, Christian."

"Night, Carla."

When Christian returns to the living room, Ana is still asleep. She looks so peaceful that he's loath to move her. Instead, he perches on the coffee table, mutes the television and watches the footage of their son one more time. It's a relatively new feeling, this dull ache deep in his chest, but he's learning to love it, because he knows it means that he would do anything for this little man; not yet born and already loved by so many people. Thinking back over the evening brings up a different pain, and he suddenly, desperately needs a shower. He's leaning forward, head in both hands when Ana gently asks, "Christian? Baby, are you okay?"

Since she knows him well enough that there's little point denying his unease, he reveals, "I'm fine, just…you know; the touching thing."

With a compassionate smile, Ana opens her arms to him as she says, "Yes, I don't suppose you've ever been hugged that much in your entire life before."

Moving to her, dropping to his knees and laying his head on her lap to receive her comfort, marveling that her touch can erase the lingering taint of all the others, he says, "Certainly not in one night. Is it too late to whisk you away to that deserted island?"

One hand caressing through his hair, the other soothingly stroking his head and neck, Ana says, "I'm sorry, darling, but I think they'd probably hunt us down now. No way are our mothers going to miss out on being grandparents."

It's enough that Christian manages to summon a weak laugh and agree, "Yes, you're right. And I'm pretty sure I saw Ray wipe away a tear or two, as well."

Ana's voice is hushed with awe when she says, "Yeah. I don't recall _ever_ seeing him cry before." Unable to bend down over her swollen belly, she noisily kisses her hand and then bestows the grateful gesture on his cheek as she continues, "Thank you, for arranging a car and driver. I'd have worried about him driving here and back in one day. And for letting Mom and Bob stay here. You're amazing." When his only answer is a modest shrug of his shoulders, Ana nervously licks her lips and asks, "So, how are you feeling about our guests staying here overnight?"

Christian chuckles and says, "I checked three times that the playroom is locked."

Ana also laughs and says, "No, I mean…does it bother you for…you know?"

Lifting his head to smile at her, Christian says, "Oh; for 'you know'. No, it doesn't bother me for that. Besides, she'll be in an adjoining room for two weeks soon, so we'd better get used to it."

Just the chance that they might get to have sex, when she'd thought it unlikely tonight, stirs desire within Ana; a powerful and steady flame, that she knows will be answered by a similar heat in Christian's body, and she asks only, "Here?"

His eyes alight with passion, Christian incredulously asks, "You'd let me fuck you on this sofa, with your Mom just upstairs?"

Hoping that he won't, Ana nevertheless means it when she promises, "I would, if you wished it."

Christian eyes her speculatively for a moment, one hand idly caressing the outside of her thigh, then he suddenly stands and helps Ana to her feet as he says, "Fortunately for you, I've never cared for an audience. We'll fuck in the shower, like civilized people."

* * *

At a safe distance from the jet, a smartly-dressed duo are standing by a shiny black Range Rover; the man doing a fair imitation of a brick building and the woman only slightly less muscular. She holds out a manila folder to Christian and greets them in what sounds like an affected posh accent, but almost certainly isn't, "Good afternoon, Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey, Mrs. Adams. I'm Lea, this is Nigel. We're your protection for the duration of your stay. If you have your passports ready, we can officially welcome you to Cambridge, England."

Christian accepts the folder even as he hands over everyone's paperwork and says, "Thank you. You're up to date?"

Lea's darted glance at Ana confirming that she is, the woman says, "Yes, sir. We're aware that the destination is a surprise. We've checked the route and don't anticipate any problems."

Opening the door, even as Nigel heads around to the driver's seat, Lea says, "Shall we proceed?"

The interior of the already luxurious vehicle has been converted to pamper the discerning billionaire; plush reclining leather seats, personal DVD players, fold-out tables, Wi-Fi and charger jacks for the mobile entrepreneur, and a minibar between each row of seats with a small selection of snacks and drinks. Lea takes a moment to explain everything before making sure her precious cargo is secured within. Carla is still gushing over the luxury as they leave the airport; Lea handing over the paperwork for a cursory inspection by an official at the gate before she returns everyone's passports and says, "First stop is in about forty minutes. Not much on the way but farmland, I'm afraid. But it's a pleasant enough view. Or you can doze and I'll wake you when we're nearly there, okay?" When she's received a nod or a smile from all of them, she motions for Nigel to drive on.

Secure in the car as it smoothly joins the traffic leaving the airport, Carla – seated in front of Ana and Christian, but where she can easily see Ana for conversation – comments, "This is a bit unnecessary, don't you think; _two_ bodyguards? We're on vacation, after all."

Ana feels Christian tense beside her, so she squeezes his hand in reassurance and explains, "There's a chance that the press will leave us alone while we're here, Mom, but it's only a slim chance, and Christian has never been willing to take risks with my safety. It's entirely necessary." Smiling a little to ease the sting of her message, she adds, "Just sit back and enjoy yourself. He also always makes travelling fun. What's in the minibar?"

As ever, easily distracted, Carla eagerly unveils the concealed treasure between the seats and discloses all the contents, cooing over the sparkling wine and thanking Christian when he offers to open it for her. Ana watches in amusement as her husband charms her mother; opening the half-bottle and pouring a modest glass for Carla, then making sure he and Ana have a non-alcoholic drink before offering the toast, "To family."

Ana wonders if he's teasing her Mom, but Carla only looks delighted at the idea and eagerly echoes his blessing before taking a sip. Glad that they're getting along, she's still grateful to Lea when the woman takes it upon herself to entertain their unofficial chaperone. With his mother-in-law distracted, Christian leans over to kiss Ana's cheek and whisper, "Thank you."

Realizing that he's talking about her defending him against her Mom, Ana quietly says, "I meant every word."

Then appraising her for a few seconds, Christian asks, "Tired, baby?"

As if his question is a command, Ana feels the effects of trying to get enough sleep on a strange jet, chartered to accommodate their guest in comfort, and admits, "A little."

Pushing the button that slowly reclines her seat, even as he takes the remains of her drink from her hand, Christian says, "Then sleep, sweetheart. You've got a big day ahead of you."

Unconcerned, because she trusts it will be for her benefit, Ana smiles and asks, "Still a surprise?"

Again leaning over to kiss her, this time on the lips, Christian says, "Yes. Sweet dreams, baby."

* * *

Ana wakes as they enter a charming town, looking like something from another era; predominately red brick walls and shuttered, multi-paned windows with brightly colored flowers in the window boxes, even a few thatched roofs. Lea is apparently still chatting with Carla, and Ana wonders if her Mom has taken breath since they left the airport. As the fugue of sleep fades away, she hears, "And it's where they filmed the TV show Dad's Army. Do you know it?"

"One of my ex-husband's favorites, though I never really got into it."

Lea shrugs and says, "What about Lara Croft? Elveden Hall is the mansion used in that one, and it's only a few miles from here."

Carla shrugs and says, "No, sorry. I don't really watch much British TV." Ana bites back her giggle at the fact that her Mom now has an idea that Tomb Raider is the same as the farcical comedy that Ray so enjoys.

Christian is, of course, tapping away at his Blackberry, presumably working. Seeing that she's awake, he puts the phone away, smiles and explains, "Thetford. This is where we'll be staying tonight. We'll stop here now and check in, so you can freshen up before we get to our final destination."

"And you're still not going to explain what's going on?"

Beaming at her, he says, "Nope. Still trust me?"

Secretly very excited, because she knows that he'll make it enjoyable, Ana cheerfully shakes her head and lies, "Not even a little bit."

She sees the flare of passion in his eyes, before he quickly quells it, though his tone retains a hint of promise when he cautions, "Lying again, Mrs. Grey?" As if remembering that they're not alone, he more loudly asks, "Is this the sort of thing you taught you daughter, Carla; lying to her husband?"

Sensing that this is a game, Carla's grin is barely contained as she says, "No, it most definitely is not."

Still looking only at Ana, Christian's cheeky grin is appearing when he asks, "What do you suggest we do about it?"

Her eyes sparkling with mirth, Carla says, "Well, the few times she was naughty as a child, I'd send Ana to her room. But that never really did anything, as she would just read and forget why she'd been sent there in the first place."

As if giving the matter serious thought, Christian says, "Hmm…I've got a better idea. When we return here this evening, you'll be blindfolded."

This entire game a little too close to others they've played – ones not suitable for nosey parents – Ana blushes and darts a nervous glance at her mother before hedging, "I might trip."

Clearly enjoying her discomfort immensely, Christian smirks and says, "Now, baby, you know I wouldn't let that happen. Just accept your punishment like a good girl."

He practically purrs the last two words. Thinking it's incredibly unfair that he can seduce her like this when she's three feet away from her mother, Ana trusts him enough to limit any remaining protest to a groan, and she says, "Okay; blindfolded. But if I fall, you're both going to feel very guilty."

Apparently satisfied, Christian lifts her hand to his lips for a moment, no doubt deliberately letting his teeth skim her knuckles, and again says "Good girl," sending Ana's body into turmoil as sudden, hot need for him pulses through her veins.

The car pulls up outside an inn almost too perfect for words; a light pink blush to the rendered stone walls, black slate tiled roof, hint of a lush garden behind the granite and hedgerow fence, and an unassuming sign in an elegant script that reads _Wereham House_. Ana is already in love with the inn and the town as Lea escorts them to reception while Nigel stays with the car.

The place appears deserted and Ana asks Christian, "Did you book every room?"

Grinning, he says, "Not quite. Apparently the British are reluctant to kick people out of their rooms, even for several of our American dollars."

Smiling, Lea interjects, "Well, that was your mistake, sir; should have made it Pound Sterling. Isn't that right, Carolyn?"

The tastefully presented woman behind the desk smiles and says, "Absolutely. Would have turfed our guests into the street for _real_ money. The Grey party?" At Lea's nod, she hands over keys as she says, "There are snacks and drinks in your rooms. Unless you inform me otherwise, dinner will be served at seven. I'm Carolyn; my husband, and also your chef, is Andy. You'll meet him at some point. I hope you enjoy your stay."

Lea escorts them to their rooms and asks Christian, "Twenty minutes?"

There's a slight edge to Christian's voice when he says "Yes," and shuts the door, so Ana isn't very surprised when arms encircle her from behind as she's surveying the small but charming room. His front snug against her back, his erection prompting against the top of her butt, Christian gently pushes her hair out of the way to kiss her neck. Pleasure coursing through her, Ana breathlessly pleads, "Uh, darling? Baby pressing on bladder."

Christian groans and immediately releases her as he mutters, "Son, you're killing me."

He doesn't sound too upset, so Ana laughs and says, "He's not doing it on purpose."

Pouting his frustration, Christian opens the en suite door for her as he complains, "I'm not so sure."

Finally at ease with her husband, even in these private moments, Ana leaves the door open as she pees and says to a now out of sight Christian, "You think he's holding a grudge for all the times we've had intercourse?"

From the bedroom, Christian snorts, "I would."

By the time they've both used the bathroom and Nigel has retrieved their luggage, there's not enough time even for a quickie and they're back in the Range Rover, heading to the mystery location. Travelling through the back streets of Thetford, Ana suddenly says, "Wait! Please, stop."

Pulling over as quickly as he safely can, Nigel asks, "Something wrong, ma'am?"

A little embarrassed when she realizes that they might think her reason trivial, Ana points to the red pillar box nearby and sheepishly explains, "I've read about them, and I know we have some in the States, but I've never seen one."

Catching on, Lea smiles and asks, "Do you have your camera handy?"

It's Christian who suggests, "How about a photo with you _and_ Carla?"

Minutes later, in an even more jovial mood after a ridiculous pose either side of the pillar box, they head off again past quaint houses and ancient inns with names like _King's Head_ and _Deer's Leap_, into the English countryside. Dark clouds threaten, but the weather holds as they travel through increasingly wooded terrain, with occasional glimpses of large estates through the trees, and Ana ponders aloud, "Do you think any of these are for sale?"

Clearly pleased with her interest, Christian smiles and asks, "You like it here, baby?"

"Oh, it's beautiful. I've only imagined places like this from books. It's as if what I've always thought of as fantasy has suddenly become real."

As usual, their hands are joined. Christian lifts her hand to his lips for a moment and says only, "Good."

Worried that he may have made an incredibly extravagant impulse buy, Ana asks, "What have you done?"

Christian laughs and says, "Nothing, babe. But, maybe by the end of the evening, you'll have real reason to want a vacation house here."

There's no point trying to get him to disclose his secret, so Ana doesn't even try, instead silently sulking, and hoping that it won't be long before they reach their destination. Her mood isn't helped when he softly laughs at her expense, clearly enjoying her impatience.

A few minutes later, Nigel slows and turns off the highway onto a lane; the road sign, _Shadwell_, giving nothing away. They drive past a lovely old red brick building with a slate tile roof and Lea reveals, "The old Post Office, now a private residence…actually, I think that one _is_ for sale." When seconds later they drive over a narrow bridge, she reveals, "The River Thet. We're nearly there."

Suddenly, the view clears onto open meadows both sides of the lane and Ana, now eagerly peering out her window, sees a church up ahead; mottled light-gray stone with a red tiled roof, and she asks, "Is that a residence, too?"

"No, ma'am. That's St. Andrew's."

A smug Christian then reveals, "Our destination."

Incredulous, given that he's not shy about proclaiming himself to be an atheist, Ana exclaims, "You, in a church?"

Christian laughs and says, "One day you'll accept the fact that I'll do anything to put a smile on your face."

Still oblivious as to his secret purpose for bringing her here, Ana is almost in tears at this simple statement and says, "I'm going to cry before the end of the day, aren't I?"

"Buckets, baby." Then looking at Carla, who's smiling on both of them, Christian adds, "But you won't be alone."

As Nigel parks the car, Ana asks, "Mom, do you know what's going on?"

Also visibly struggling to contain her emotions, Carla says, "Only part of it. Christian needed my help to get started. I hope you like it, sweetie."

Suddenly, irrationally nervous, Ana doesn't realize what she's doing until Christian leans over and eases her bottom lip from her teeth before kissing her and pleading, "Trust me."

It's all Ana needs, this reminder that everything he's done is for her, so she smiles and vows, "I do."

When Christian laughs, she's at first confused, until he points out, "Appropriate words, given our location."

They're met at the door by a young curate, Keith, who is obviously known to Lea. He greets them and leads the way to a back room. On a weathered, wooden desk is a large book of church records; from its appearance, probably the original. Finally getting an inkling of why they've come all this way, Ana is actually holding her breath as she reads the line of information Keith points to; the baptism record of Edward Lambert, born 1783, only son of Edward and Hannah. Too stunned to do anything other than eventually draw a ragged breath, Ana hears Christian quietly explain, "It's the best I could do at short notice. I've traced your father's family back this far. I want you and our son to know where you came from."

Ana shakes her head and asks, "But…you've only had a couple of weeks…how?"

"Actually, I've been working on this for a while. You know my fondness for research. When even Carla didn't know much about her in-laws, I did some digging. A framed portrait of your family tree should be ready by the time we get home. The name Lambert goes back all the way to the fifteenth century in Ireland, but this is what we've confirmed so far; Edward and Hannah Lambert are your great, great, great, great, great, great grandparents."

The way his brow furrows in concentration as he counts off her lineage on his fingers makes Ana's heart swell still further with love, until it feels fit to burst, and she practically throws herself at him as she says, "Thank you."

Christian easily catches her in his embrace, grants her the lingering kiss she then silently begs for, and finally asks, "Good surprise?"

As one, Ana and a teary-eyed Carla say "Wonderful surprise," prompting joyful laughter from the three of them.

With Keith's permission – though he adds the stipulation that they not use a camera flash inside – they then go snap happy, taking pictures of the book, church and surrounds. Glad that Christian has bullied her into wearing only comfortable shoes as her pregnancy progresses, Ana is nevertheless a little footsore when they return to the Range Rover as the light is waning. On seeing Ana kick off her shoes, Christian pats his lap. Smiling her gratitude, Ana reclines her seat and puts her feet in his lap for a soothing massage. He's barely had time to ease the pain when they're approaching the outskirts of Thetford and Christian instructs, "Pull over."

Nigel nods and does so, glancing in the mirror for the reason why. Christian leans over and grabs one end of Ana's scarf, gently pulling it towards him as he grins and reminds her, "Your punishment, Mrs. Grey."

Her lips automatically parting in quest for oxygen, as her heart rate and breathing accelerate in response to his seductive tone, Ana again nervously glances at a smiling Carla and protests, "I thought you were joking?"

"Carla, did it seem like I was joking earlier?"

Making Ana almost uncomfortable with how much she's enjoying this "game", Carla says, "No. No, it didn't. Just do as you're told, sweetheart."

Again choosing trust, Ana shrugs and sits up to let Christian blindfold her, muttering, "You better not let me walk into a wall or anything."

Carefree, Christian laughs and kisses her angry lips, then says, "Tempting, but I don't think your mother would approve." Ana guesses that he's then talking to Nigel when he says, "Okay."

Only a few minutes later, the car again stops. Ana assumes they're outside Wereham House. Without her sight, all she can do is wait for someone to help her. She smells Christian's delicious scent when the door opens onto a very chilly evening. He silently helps her into her shoes, then takes both her hands and warmly says, "Come on, baby; one more surprise for the night."

Suddenly realizing why he'd been so intent on incorporating what has been foreplay into their day, she smiles and says, "I should have guessed you had an ulterior motive."

She can imagine his smug grin when he chuckles and kisses her cheek, then promises, "Always, baby."

Christian carefully leads her, with occasional verbal instructions, through a few doors, then bids her stop before moving behind her, keeping reassuring contact with her at all times. Gently pushing her forward a few steps – not something she could endure with anyone she trusted less than her husband – he then puts his lips by her ear to whisper "My eleventh reason why I'll make a good parent," then removes the blindfold.

A few feet in front of Ana – helped to stand out of her wheelchair by a young, well-dressed man – is an old woman…ancient, even. She's still beautiful though, and achingly familiar. Behind her are about forty people, of varying ages, all looking pleased to see Ana and wearing name tags that she can't quite read from this distance. With a kind smile, the woman says, "Welcome, Ana. I'm Ann Lambert; your great-aunt." With a wide, graceful sweep of her arm, she encompasses all assembled, saying, "And _this_ is your family."

* * *

Just the facts: All place names exist. The particular St. Andrews church mentioned (there are many in the UK) is at Brettenham, Norfolk, beside a lane off the A1066. There was an Edward Lambert born there, but I don't know that the original parish records would be in the church, but I thought this was cuter than Ana and Christian visit an office. Thank you, for reading.


	29. Chapter 29

Author's note: Just a short chapter again. To make up for that, I have good news; my internet connection is fixed! With that and a little bit of luck, I should be able to post regularly again. Thank you, to any and all who offered support in this trying time.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-nine

Surprised that her brain is able to function well enough to form _any_ words, Ana shakes the old woman's hand in greeting and squeaks, "Hi."

Before she has time to recover from the shock, the young man also offers his hand as he reveals, "Jerry; second-cousin."

He then gestures to a man behind him, who steps forward and greets Ana with a warm hand, an even warmer smile and, "Welcome, Ana. I'm your cousin, Bill."

Dimly aware that Carla is also circulating, greeting people as she goes, Ana's body is still on autopilot, moving through the crowd as if in a daze, learning and forgetting names of relatives she didn't even know existed until this evening. Somewhere in her tiny trek, the happy tears start falling. She only notices the moisture on her cheeks when someone hands her a Kleenex. Looking up to thank them, she sees her husband, his brow crinkled in concern, so she smiles and says, "I'm okay. I just…you've given me something that I didn't even dare wish for."

Reassured, Christian's frown transforms to a smile and he says, "It seems only fair; that's what you do for me."

This, of course, doesn't stop the flow of tears, but he acquiesces when Ana holds out a hand, so she has his support as she greets the rest of her family; some of them also smiling through tears. Somewhere before the end of the emotional introductions, silent permission is apparently given for every new person to hug Ana as they reveal their names and offer her welcome. Still, she maintains her grip on Christian's hand, because she knows that her legs will fail if she lets go; her body woefully unprepared for so much joy at one time.

Finally, it's done, and Ana turns into Christian's chest as the room breaks into spontaneous applause. When she stops trembling, Ana lifts her head, looking for her mother. Seeing Carla nearby, she releases Christian and moves into her Mom's embrace. After a while, they step back to wipe away the fresh tears and Carla attempts a laugh before nodding towards Christian and saying, "He's, uh…" Now finding a real laugh, she then says, "Apparently defies description."

Ana also laughs and says, "Yes, he often leaves me speechless, too…no doubt by design." She then wonders if it's rehearsed when their hostess, Carolyn, chooses that moment to say that dinner will soon be served. Recognizing her great-aunt as the matriarch, Ana moves over to where the woman is now resting in the wheelchair and takes her hand to say, "I'll just go freshen up. May I sit next to you during dinner?"

Offering a surprisingly strong, reassuring pressure on Ana's hand, Ann says, "Please. I have so much to tell you."

Christian is standing to one side, glaring at his Blackberry when she finds him in the now cheerfully noisy crowd, but looks up and puts it away to smile at her and ask, "Good surprise?"

First claiming a kiss, Ana then accuses, "False modesty is the least honest thing you do."

His smile broadens and he confesses, "Okay, I knew that you'd like this one. They're here all evening, and some of them are staying overnight, so you'll hopefully have time to chat with everyone. Ann Lambert suggested and arranged most of this when I contacted her. All I've done is pay for everything."

Determined that Christian will know how much she appreciates his selfless gesture, Ana cradles his face so that he'll meet her gaze when she lovingly asserts, "All you've done is give me a family." Cursing herself when her voice then almost fails, Ana realizes it only adds weight to her message as she rasps, "You must know what that means to me."

Caught in her hands, unable to shrug or look away, Christian actually blushes a little and mutters, "Yeah, okay."

Not for the first time, shocked by the anomaly that is her husband, Ana wonders how he could have ever seemed arrogant, when he's probably the most self-effacing person she knows. Taking pity on him, she quickly kisses him again before releasing him and saying, "I need to take care of a pressing issue before dinner."

Glancing over at a vigilant Lea, for one of those silent communications that Ana still doesn't really understand, Christian hands over their room key and says, "I'll wait here."

Something in his tone alerts her. "Anything wrong?"

Glancing behind her for a second, Christian lowers his voice and says, "Your nurse should have been here by now."

Ana had completely forgotten his promise to her oncologist, and says, "Well, that's not really necessary, is it? I feel fine; just tired all the time."

His expression hardening, Christian quietly admonishes, "This is your first pregnancy, so we have no idea how it will affect you. Though we've said goodbye to Dolores, you're not out of the woods, yet. _And_ it's only six weeks since you had a craniotomy."

Recognizing that he won't be dissuaded, and having given him control over her safety, Ana rests a comforting hand on his chest and says, "You're right. I'm sorry."

Immediately appeased, Christian relaxes, smiles and says, "Apology accepted." Then kissing her cheek, he whispers, "Don't be long, okay? You know how I am with crowds."

She does. But he's never actually come out and said it like that before; as if it's no big deal that being in a crowd of strangers pushes him to the edge of panic. So Ana is feeling ridiculously good about herself, their relationship and the world in general as she's accompanied up to her room by Lea. Thankfully, the woman takes only a second to check the suite before giving Ana privacy.

Walking back downstairs, accompanied by Lea, she spots Christian's profile outside, through a window, and smiles on seeing him, until she recognizes his posture as that of Angry Christian. Feeling sorry for whomever is on the other end of his controlled rage, she doesn't hesitate and heads out onto the front step in time to hear him conclude, "…and fucking unprofessional."

The woman facing him – Ana guesses it's the nurse assigned to monitor her health while they're here – bites back whatever apparently angry reply she was about to make when the door opens to reveal Ana. Christian turns, his anger melting away at the sight of her, and says, "It's okay, baby. Go back inside. I'll be there in a minute."

Moving into his arms, silently demanding a small kiss, which he readily bestows, Ana then extends her hand to the woman and says, "Hi. I'm Ana." Smiling, to show that there's no ill will on her part, she adds, "You're late."

With a wary glance at Christian, she accepts the greeting, saying, "Bree. Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry about that. As I was just about to explain to your husband, one of my dogs cut his foot on a broken bottle or something…five stitches and a staple to repair the damage. I've been at the vet all afternoon, and only stopped home long enough to change out of my blood-soaked clothes." Then addressing Christian, she concludes, "I apologize for not calling, to let you know I'd be late. But, as you can imagine, I was a little distracted."

Still fuming, Christian remains silent as Ana asks Bree, "Will your dog be okay?"

Finally relaxing enough to smile, Bree says, "Oh, yes. Thank you. My brother is looking after him. Targa will just be happy to be allowed to sleep inside the house until his stitches come out."

"I'm glad. And, have you eaten?"

Relief flooding the woman's face, she says, "Not even lunch."

Silently praying that her husband has had enough time to calm down, Ana asks him, "Christian?"

With half a smile on his face, as if he has a secret joke, Christian gestures to the suitcase at Bree's feet and asks, "That it?"

"Yes, sir."

Picking up the case, Christian says, "Go with Ana. I'll get this to your room and make sure a place is set for you at the table."

"Thank you, sir."

When they've parted ways, but before she's once again in a room full of people, Ana says to Bree, "I'm not going to apologize for Christian. He's a man whose pregnant wife probably has cancer."

Bree nods and says, "And coping remarkably well, under those circumstances. Believe me, distraught spouses are just part of my job. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. If you're content, can we wait until after dinner before you start poking and prodding me?"

"Well, it'll be more along the lines of taking your blood pressure and shining a light in your eyes. But, yes, it can wait."

Glad that the tension has passed, Ana introduces Bree to Lea and then Carla. By then Christian has returned with Carolyn, who sets another place at the huge table and announces that dinner will be served immediately. Secure and comfortable between Christian and her great-aunt, Ana enjoys herself immensely, learning more about her family in one meal than she had in twenty-two years. It's not the best food she's ever eaten since meeting Christian, though it is delicious, and she leans close to say, "Best meal ever, thank you."

Smiling, Christian says, "Even though the chicken was a little dry?"

"Even so. Thank you, for today."

Kissing Ana in that spot just behind her ear, that seems to be somehow connected to her groin, Christian murmurs, "Day's not yet over, Mrs. Grey."

She can't help it, she blushes, and has to then tolerate his soft laugh at her expense. "Not nice, Grey."

Resting a hand on her thigh, his movement concealed by the table cloth, Christian purrs, "See, now I think that I'm being incredibly nice."

Trusting that he won't take it too far while they're at the table, Ana ignores the quickening of her blood to protest, "Bree has to take my blood pressure after dinner. Do you really want to spend the evening at the nearest hospital?"

Christian chuckles again and removes his hand, kissing her cheek before saying, "Fair point, Mrs. Grey."

After dinner, Ana has to tolerate Bree's exam in the privacy of their bedroom, with Christian nervously hovering nearby, despite her constant assurances that she feels all right. As expected, she's given a clean bill of health, with the added caution that she not stay up very late. Christian doesn't apologize for his earlier tirade, but he does warmly thank Bree as he dismisses her for the evening. Then taking Ana gently in his arms, he asks, "Tired, baby?"

Assuming he wants to finish what he started earlier, Ana laughs lightly and asks, "What do you have in mind?"

With a grin, he says, "For once, not what I was talking about. I mean, are you too tired to head back downstairs? I'll make your excuses if you'd rather not."

By now, they can hear that one of her relatives has found the upright piano and is belting out tunes to rowdy accompaniment. Ana smiles and says, "Sounds like a fun party." Suddenly comprehending that Christian only tolerated the noisy crowd this long for her benefit, she continues, "Oh, but you don't need to stay with me, darling. Mom is there…probably the one singing loudest. Plus I have Lea to keep an eye on me. I'll be fine."

Clearly, it's the right phrasing, because Christian's mood immediately brightens, but he still nervously asks, "You're sure?"

"Quite sure. And I'll stay within sight of a bodyguard at all times other than when I pee, I promise."

"You don't think…do you think they'll be upset if I'm not there?"

Ana giggles and says, "And when did you become so concerned what strangers think of you?"

Glaring at her, Christian counters, "Not strangers; your family. I have all their contact details and invited them to visit if they're ever in our corner of the world."

Again astounded at the lengths he'll go to, just to make her smile, Ana leans against his chest and says, "You really are perfect, aren't you?" When Christian only laughs at this, she savors the feeling as the warm sound vibrates through her body, then says, "And you needn't worry; though you _do_ create a lasting impression, I doubt that bunch will even notice your absence."

Christian laughs again at that and says, "Yes, you're probably right. You won't exhaust yourself?"

Lifting her face, so he'll see the truth of it, Ana promises, "Not too much." When he only smiles quietly in gratitude, Ana says, "Thank you, for trusting me."

Just staring into her eyes for several seconds, Christian then kisses her forehead and says, "You'd better go, before I can't let you."

Ana steps out of his arms as she laughs and points out, "You've said that before."

"And I'm sure it was just as true then."

When he smacks her ass as she turns away from him, Ana yelps and says, "And I'm pretty sure you did that, too."

Unrepentant, Christian grins and says, "It certainly sounds like me. Have fun, baby."

When the door shuts, leaving him alone, Christian feels that familiar pain that occurs whenever Ana walks away from him, as if some part of him actually goes with her, leaving him less than he was in her presence. Shaking off the urge to just follow her, for any sign of affection, he turns to the small desk, where his computer is quietly humming, awaiting his attention.

The next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, it's to notice that he's lost a couple of hours while he was catching up on the money markets. And there's that pain again, so he's torn between his need to show Ana that he trusts her, and this horrible feeling of almost panic; that something terrible will happen to her if she's not in sight. Thankfully, the techniques he's learned over the years are enough that his concern is limited to a short text, asking if she's okay.

When there's no reply after a couple of minutes, he starts pacing. When, there's none after ten, he mutters "Fuck," and gives in to the panic. Nigel is vigilant outside the door, and practically snaps to attention, falling in behind Christian as he heads downstairs.

Ana is at the front door, her hands on the shoulders of some young man as she kisses his cheek. Christian's blood actually runs hotter in his veins for a second. Thankfully there're enough stairs between them to ensure his amygdala is battered into submission by the rest of his brain, as he notices that her stance and posture indicate only a polite farewell, despite the fact that the fucker is taking this opportunity to rest his hands on Ana's hips.

The guy notices Christian's approach and rightly looks afraid. Alerted, Ana turns and the same fear flashes through her gaze before she forces a smile and says, "Christian! Just in time to say goodbye."

Running his gaze over the man's nametag, Christian offers a cold smile and his hand as he says, "Thanks for coming, Jim. You've helped make this day very special for Ana."

Visibly relieved to be spared whatever fate he'd seen waiting for him in Christian's eyes only moments ago, Jim readily accepts the gesture as he says, "Oh, my pleasure. It was wonderful to catch up with everyone. We usually only do that for weddings and funerals. This was much less stressful."

After fairly formal goodbyes, Christian gratefully shuts the door on him, turning to see concern on Ana's face. Kissing her cheek in apology, he says, "I guess you didn't hear your phone."

The concern is replaced by surprise and Ana checks before saying, "Oh, sorry." With an attempt at a laugh, she says, "That explains it."

Dismissing Lea from the foyer with a glance, Christian then asks, "You're not angry?"

She's not, but crosses her arms and counters, "Depends; do you intend to perform that terrifying ritual with all of them?"

Recognizing that she's already forgiven his jealousy, and relieved that his neuroses haven't ruined her evening, Christian smiles and asks, "Will you protect me from any over-affectionate women?"

He knows they're okay when she laughs and promises, "Always, Mr. Grey."

Offering his outstretched hand, Christian says, "Then we have a deal."

Accepting the gesture, Ana isn't very surprised when she pulled into his embrace and their lips meet as if it's been days, not hours, since they last kissed. They're shocked out of their paradise for two by Carla. "There you are! Come on; Kevin is ready for Auld Lang Syne."

With that, she's gone, obviously trusting that Ana will follow. Reluctantly ending the kiss, Christian mutters, "Whose idea was it to bring that woman?"

Laughing, Ana caresses the side of his face, relishing the feel of evening stubble there, and lovingly whispers, "Yours, my darling, because you knew that I'd enjoy her company on this trip."

"So far, so good?"

"So far, incredible."


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

A woman whose now somewhat dog-eared nametag simply reads "Pru", sees that Christian has rejoined the noisy party and greets the couple with, "What did he say?"

Christian is immediately wary when Ana shoots him a nervous glance before saying, "Uh, haven't had a chance to discuss it, yet."

"Discuss what?"

Pru's eyes are shining with excitement…or whatever is in the glass she's holding, when she exclaims, "Go Ape! It's fucking brilliant. Ana simply must do it while you're here. How long are you staying?"

Instant dislike for this brash woman practically making his skin itch, Christian coolly says, "Other than look after her health and that of our baby, there's nothing Ana _must_ do. And, if you're talking about that tree top adventure park, it's out of the question." He's not an idiot; he can see that such an authoritative tone when they're in public awakens Ana's ire, so he quickly explains to her, "Even their website says that it's a bad idea when you're pregnant, baby. You'd have to sign a waiver just to get into a harness."

Pru dismisses his concerns with a wave of her hand and say, "Oh, rubbish; it's perfectly safe. The company is just covering themselves. They won't actually forbid you. Six year olds do this…well, the junior course, anyway."

Well and truly tired of the conversation, Christian hopes it will be enough when he says, "Ana and I will discuss it, later."

As if he's agreed, Pru grasps Ana's arm and says, "Awesome! You're going to love it, Ana. I'll make sure they have a harness that will fit around that little guy."

Still warily monitoring Christian's reaction out the corner of her eye, Ana says, "Uh, thanks. As Christian said; we'll talk about it. I'll give you a call in the morning and let you know."

They're then offered a reprieve from whatever else Pru was going to say when the designated pianist, Kevin, begins the introduction to Auld Lang Syne. Carla appears beside Ana's elbow, slipping an arm through hers and whispering, "Wonderful evening."

Suddenly weary, Ana offers a weak smile and says, "I told you, he always makes it fun."

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

Not game to look at Christian, who she knows will be listening to every word, Ana straightens her posture in an attempt to appease them both and says, "Just tired, Mom."

It seems enough, and Carla is then distracted by joining in when the entire room starts singing the words that most people are apparently born knowing. When they're done, Kevin is rewarded with almost somber applause, as every sensible person in the place knows that it's time to leave. For once grateful of his domineering tone when Christian leans close to whisper "Time for bed," Ana finds Ann, who uses Jerry's strong arm to stand and embrace her as they say goodbye, promising to talk more over breakfast.

Seeking out a few more of her new best friends, who she knows won't be there in the morning, Ana then lets Christian lead her upstairs, where they wordlessly get ready for bed. She can feel his eagle eyes on her, but can't summon the energy to reassure him, because she doesn't really know what's wrong. Finally, he taps twice on her arm and says, "Hey, talk to me."

Amazingly, her mood lifts at his words, and with it comes clarity, though a shadow of fear hangs over her as she takes a deep breath and says, "You've done so much for me…for us – all three of us – that it doesn't seem right to have any doubts."

Tensing in defense against he knows not what, Christian calmly says, "Yet clearly, you do."

Recognizing it as a request for more information, Ana nods and explains, "I understand why you do it, so I honestly don't ultimately mind, but…when you act jealous like that, it…I can't be afraid all the time, Christian."

He'd been thinking the same thing, so quietly reveals, "And I don't like seeing that fear in your eyes. I know it's not _of_ me. You aren't worried that I'll do anything to you. But you're rightly afraid that I might create a scene, even hurt some fucker for impropriety." Spreading his hands wide in supplication, knowing that she understands, he says, "But, unless you want me back on medication, this is honestly the best I can do right now. Do you feel as if I'm not improving?"

Resting her hands on his arms, drawing them down in a bid to counteract his concern, Ana almost desperately says, "Oh, God, no. Please don't think that. Like I said, you've done so much. I'm just…you asked me to talk, so that's what I'm doing."

Relaxing somewhat, Christian enfolds Ana in his embrace as he asks, "Any suggestions?"

Her face resting against his chest, Ana thinks about it for several seconds and then says, "Maybe a promise?"

At first confused, Christian eventually says, "Along the lines of not breaking some guy's hand if it touches my wife?"

Ana manages a smile and says, "Along those lines, but only if you feel able to keep it. I'll understand if it's beyond you for now. Like I said, I know why this is difficult for you."

Searching his memories for scenarios that have made his blood boil with primal rage – it doesn't take long – Christian finds words that he can live with and vows, "I promise, on my love for you, that I will never strike another human being, in anger, without your permission."

Ana is quiet for so long, he worries that she needs more than he can give, but there are grateful tears welling in her eyes when she lifts her head to incredulously ask, "You'd do that for me?"

Relieved, he smiles and says, "Technically, _not_ do that for you; yes. Good enough?"

Blinking away the tears, Ana smiles and says, "Yes, thank you. Can we fuck now?"

He could. He certainly wants to. A day without her naked limbs entwined in his seems an eternity. Instead, Christian relaxes his embrace, in case she needs to retreat, and bleakly intones, "You said _doubts_; plural."

"I did? It's just an expression, darling."

Smiling, knowing that she's lying to herself, not him, Christian feels almost at ease when he gently admonishes, "Baby, I've been in therapy for a couple of decades; you'll have to do better than that. It's something to do with that awful Pru woman. That's when your mood shifted." He sees the moment when Ana unlocks the deeper fear lurking in her mind, and he deliberately softly prompts, "Please, baby, trust me enough to tell me."

As expected, Ana takes a step back, out of his arms. Trying not to let the pain of that simple gesture distract him, Christian is intent on her words and her body's responses when she sighs and sadly asks, "Do you think it will always be like this?"

Suddenly comprehending that she's talking about the ridiculous tree top activity, he can't help the warning tone when he reminds her, "You've given me carte blanche when it comes to yours and our baby's safety."

With that frightening serenity, that gives no clue as to her feelings, Ana nods and says, "Yes. And I stand by that decision. I will respect your wishes in this matter."

She clearly thinks that he's wrong, and her maddening calm makes him feel like a child before an indulgent, patient parent. Helpless to stop his rising anger, Christian retains enough control to moderate his volume as he says, "You think I'm being overprotective."

"Pru works there, Christian, so I would think she knows more about it than someone who probably didn't look past the home page of their website. But I knew, even as I said that we'd discuss it, that there would be no discussion. When I had that thought, our future suddenly seemed…it made me sad."

Genuinely confused, since stubborn anger has always been her response when she feels justified in defying him, Christian can only echo, "Sad?"

This time, as the moisture wells in her almost too-blue eyes, silently accusing and beseeching him, Christian knows that it's sorrow, not happiness, when Ana reveals, "Flynn says that I'm strong enough to fight you every day of our lives, but he's wrong."

It's too much; undefined emotions roiling within him, Christian feels the terrifying onset of his own sad tears – not seen since he was an infant – and curses that his voice cracks as he says, "I need to go for a run."

Somehow it's made even worse when Ana merely looks slightly disappointed as she nods and politely asks, "Will you please take Lea or Nigel with you?"

"I've dismissed them for the evening." _Why does my voice sound so strange?_

"They're professionals. They'll still be making sure this building is secure."

"Okay, baby. I'll take Nigel." _Just get the fuck out of here already!_

Whomever the fuck is talking inside his head means that Christian doesn't even hear Ana's farewell as he practically sprints from the room. Thankfully, Nigel is still up and about and keen for exercise, given that they had a fairly lazy day. It's about a mile before Christian calms down enough that the panicked little boy inside him is quieted, and another before he relaxes enough to remember what Ana had said as he fled her presence; "Thank you, Christian. I love you, no matter what you decide."

It's the truth that had been staring him in the face all this time. The clues were there; the adoration in her eyes twenty hours a day, her eager willingness to try anything (in and out of the playroom) that he suggests, her wholehearted acceptance of his sordid past and it's continued repercussions, her apparently limitless capacity to forgive his transgressions and inadequacies, and her remarkable choice to bend her iron will to his. Ana's love for him is so powerful, so selfless, that he cannot destroy it…but it can destroy her. The revelation is strong enough that he stumbles and almost falls, coming to a sudden stop.

"Sir?"

Of course, he'd forgotten about his shadow and shakes his head, saying, "Enough for tonight, I think."

Stepping aside, so Christian can take the lead for the journey back, Nigel merely says, "Yes, sir."

This cold December night ensures that he's barely broken a sweat by the time they return to the inn. Again dismissing his minder, Christian spends some time downstairs, carefully avoiding the lingering, alcohol-soaked guests, while he researches and considers what to do next before heading upstairs to his wife. She's apparently in bed, facing away from him, but he figures she's feigning sleep. Thankfully, she's left the bathroom light on for him, so he's able to undress and clean up a little before finding his way into bed without injury. She still hasn't moved. Christian wraps himself around Ana, ignoring her feeble attempts to stop him when she works out what he's doing. Sure enough, there is fresh moisture on her face; she's been weeping while he ran away. Tired of apologizing, so he knows she must be tired of hearing it, Christian instead cradles her to him and says to her back, "You used to dance."

Relaxing a little at his warm tone, Ana says, "I danced tonight."

"No. I mean, you used to dance when you thought no one was watching. Somewhere between our honeymoon and tonight, you stopped doing that."

After a few seconds, Ana says, "You're right. I hadn't noticed. I guess, with everything that's happened since then, I haven't felt much like dancing."

This confirmation of how much being married to him has damaged her causes Christian considerable pain. But he pushes it aside to say, "I don't want hurricane Christian to destroy your identity, Anastasia. I'd never forgive myself if you sacrifice who you are, just to stay with me."

She's quiet for even longer this time, and then restores all Christian's faith in their love when she simply says, "You have a plan."

Holding her tighter, he breathes "Thank you," and then relaxes his embrace a little to reveal, "Despite you having given your consent, I'll no longer arbitrarily decide matters of safety. If I consider something is too dangerous, I'll say so, in those words, and then we'll discuss it and work out a compromise. But we both need me in control, so I'll ultimately have the final word."

He loves her even more when she takes quite a while to consider his words. He can hear the laughter in her voice when she finally says, "Jason won't have as much to do, if we settle our own arguments from now on."

Finally daring to hope that they'll be okay, Christian chuckles and says, "Baby, he'll be in charge of protecting our offspring. He'll be plenty busy."

Ana laughs at that – God, how he loves that sound – and takes a deep breath before saying, "I want to do the Go Ape. Quite a few of my relatives are doing it tomorrow, while they're in the area, and I don't want to miss out, because I may never have this chance again."

Despite it sounding like defiance, Christian recognizes her words as compliance and kisses her cheek before saying, "I've looked into it; adults can do the junior course. The difference being that it's an hour instead of two or three, and you will be permanently attached to a safety cable for the duration. _That_ I can cope with, though I reserve the right to hover and worry incessantly." When Ana moves out of his arms, he wonders if he's somehow fucked up again, and asks, "Baby?"

Turning to give him a quick kiss, Ana smiles and says, "Just texting Pru. She'll be thrilled."

Grimacing at the thought of enduring yet more of that woman's company, Christian complains, "She'll be a pain in the ass."

Giggling, Ana reaches for her phone as she corrects him, "I believe they say 'arse' here, darling."

"That, too." Giving her time to send the message, he then growls, "Now get your _arse_ back in here."

Laughing again, Ana gleefully shakes her head and says, "Twenty minutes."

"Fuck. Okay, but it's ten now. We've already talked."

Climbing under the covers and into his arms, Ana agrees, "Fair enough. Oh, what were you smiling about after we met Bree?"

"Oh, I was just thinking that you're getting good at handling me. And I was surprised how little it bothered me. It certainly would have in the past."

Visibly surprised, Ana says, "I didn't realize that's what I was doing. I just knew that I didn't want you to get off on the wrong foot with the woman who'll be travelling with us."

"Exactly; handling me. You saw that I was angry and altered my mood; very adroitly, I might add."

"Do I need to apologize for that?"

"No, baby. If we weren't one wall away from your mother, it probably would have earned you punishment. But, like I said, I wasn't very upset, and I'm guessing that Carla pounding on the door because you're screaming would rather ruin the mood."

There is something else entirely in Ana's tone when she says, "I'd like to handle you now."

His hands already questing under her t-shirt, Christian smirks, "What happened to talking?"

Christian knows all conversation is over when Ana looks at him, her eyes wide with longing, and says, "If that's what you'd prefer, Sir."

They make love then, gently, as if nothing has ever been wrong between them, savoring every inch of each other's bodies, until Ana can't help but scream her ecstasy, though not with the same abandon she would at home.

Later, holding his beloved in his arms, the sweat still cooling on their skin, Christian quietly confesses, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't like making you sad."

Resting a hand on his chest, Ana says, "I know. And you probably wouldn't have if I weren't tired and at the whim of hormones, but I'm glad we talked. You're the best ex-Dom a not-very-submissive could ever wish for."

When Christian laughs at that, she's again surrounded by that wonderful, warm, comforting sound and falls asleep to echoes of his happiness.


	31. Chapter 31

Author's note: I have a good news/bad news for you. A few of you know that I started my first Castle fanfic, because I started waking before dawn, unable to get back to sleep. About ten days ago, this condition fixed itself as mysteriously as it had appeared, and I now get to laze in bed until around 7am...luxury! Good news is I'm no longer sleep deprived, and should make fewer mistakes. Bad news is that I don't have those two hours of darkness every morning for writing, so updates will be further apart. Thank you, for reading.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-one

When Ana wakes, it's to see Christian's face only inches from hers. He's apparently dressed and showered, probably even been for a run. Used to this by now, Ana rolls onto her back and lazily stretches as she asks, "Are you ever going to stop doing that?"

Unrepentant, he smiles and says, "If you ever stop looking like an angel when you sleep, I'll stop watching you. Did you have fun last night?"

Remembering that she screamed his name during sex, even though her mother is just next door, Ana blushes and says, "I think that much was quite evident."

Christian laughs and says, "No, baby; did you enjoy the party?"

"Oh, yes, thank you. They're all so welcoming that it honestly feels like I'm already part of this family, even though they were strangers until last night. Did you cope okay without me? I know that your concern for my safety goes into overdrive when we're apart, especially since Dolores."

Surprisingly okay with what would have seemed like weakness in the past, Christian shrugs and says, "Until you didn't answer your phone; yes, I was fine. I know you won't deliberately do anything to make me anxious, and you're not going to hit the tequila while you're pregnant." It's a not very subtle reference to the only time she's ever been drunk, and they both know it, so Ana just glares at him until he very _un_convincingly says, "Sorry."

Heading to the bathroom, Ana complains, "I think there should be some sort of statute of limitations on this sort of thing."

"You could have Brit look into it, but I don't like your chances. I'm pretty sure you vomiting on your shoes will remain funny forever."

Ana shuts the bathroom door perhaps a little harder than is necessary and takes her time before returning to the bedroom, only to see that Christian has bothered to prepare a cup of tea for her, and he says, "English Breakfast seems particularly appropriate this morning. I thought you might like a cup before facing the breakfast buffet and whomever of your hung-over relatives show up for the free meal; your mother is among the sufferers and is having a light breakfast in her room."

Any resentment at his teasing evaporates and she offers him a grateful kiss. When he obliges but doesn't wrap his arms around her naked body, she asks, "We have to go soon?"

His jaw clenching in frustration, Christian says, "If you want to make like a monkey, yes. I have plans for this morning. I've already talked to Pru; we'll Go Ape in the afternoon."

Taking pity on him, Ana dons her robe before sitting on the bed to sip her tea and ask, "Do you ever start the day without a plan?"

"Only since meeting you. Even as a young child I would write down a list of goals for each day."

Almost horrified at this revelation, delivered without dramatic inflection, Ana exclaims, "Not really?"

The hint of a smile on his lips at her stunned reaction, Christian says, "Yes, baby. You can't achieve all I've done without being good at planning."

"What sort of things were on your childhood list?"

With a shrug, Christian reveals, "Oh, learn proper etiquette for the dinner table, practice the latest piece on piano…uh, football, baseball, bicycle; all the stuff that most privileged kids know."

"Did you ever just play as a child?"

"Eventually, yes."

"When you were confident that they wouldn't send you back?"

Warily appraising her mood, Christian says, "Yes. Don't make yourself sad over this, okay? It happened to a different person than who I am now, partly because of you."

He's right; it was a long time ago. So Ana forces the clouds from her mind and smiles, then suggests, "How about, when we return home, we make Sunday 'No Plan Day'?"

Christian chuckles and says, "We practically do that now. Unless we have family obligations, we pretty much spend the day in bed. And wouldn't giving it a name kind of go against the whole concept?"

Warming to the idea, Ana says, "Not at all. We can still do stuff, but it must be impromptu; nothing that has been scheduled."

Cringing at the thought, Christian says, "Not even a call ahead, to make sure that a venue is open?"

"Nope. Nothing."

"Sounds horrible."

"Then we're on the right track. I think this will be good for you."

Easing onto the bed beside her, Christian toys with the sash at her waist as he says, "I have a difficult time refusing you anything when you're wearing only silk."

Her heart hammering in response to the fire in his gaze and tone, Ana gulps and says, "I'll remember that. I thought we had to get going?"

Taking the half empty mug from her hands and setting it aside, Christian says, "We do. So get your delectable _arse_ into some casual clothes."

Giggling, Ana gets off the bed and heads to the closet as she says, "You like that word a lot."

Emphasizing his words with a firm pinch of Ana's butt, eliciting an outraged yelp from her, Christian says, "I like yours."

By the time they've made their way downstairs to the function room, Ann Lambert is at the head of the long table, surrounded by about a dozen or so of last night's revelers. Everyone rowdily greets the couple as they enter the room. They acknowledge the greetings and Christian murmurs, "Remember that I have plans?"

Knowing that he's asking rather than telling, because he wouldn't really drag her away if she's having a good time, Ana smiles and promises, "I will." Looking at the dizzying array of food available at the buffet, and nodding a greeting to their chef, Andy, she asks, "What do you recommend?"

Beaming, Andy says, "As you're eating for two, you could probably manage the Full Monty."

Looking to Christian for the answer, who merely shrugs, Ana says, "The what?"

"Allegedly named after Field Marshal Montgomery. It's a full English breakfast: eggs, sausage, black pudding, black bacon, mushrooms, baked beans, fried bread, and a vine-ripened tomato."

"All that for one person?"

Christian laughs and says, "Yes, baby. Haven't you heard that to eat well in England, you should have breakfast three times a day?" Then addressing Andy, he says, "Two, please."

"Eggs?"

Still smiling at Ana's shocked expression, Christian says, "What the heck; fry them, too."

"Have a seat. I'll bring them over."

Christian notes with pleasure that Pru hasn't yet surfaced. They've made room for Ana next to her great-aunt, and the two women are immediately deep in conversation. Scanning his memory for all the names he learned last night, Christian asks the older man next to him, "Bill?"

"Well done. I didn't think you hung around long enough to know."

If it's criticism, it's offered without malice, so Christian shrugs and says, "Last night was for Ana."

Leaning a little closer, Bill says, "I don't blame you for hiding. They're a terrifying bunch when they get going."

The man's easy manner putting Christian at ease, he actually starts to enjoy himself. By the time he's run out of polite topics, their meals have arrived, again putting Ana into food shock. Christian laughs and says, "It's okay, baby. I'll finish whatever you cannot." He's impressed and oddly proud when she almost empties the oversized plate. Finally replete, he sits back and addresses no one in particular to say, "Well, we'd better hit the road."

"Where are you off to, this morning?"

Christian doesn't recall the young woman's name and says, as he stands to help Ana from her chair, "I'm afraid that I can't tell you; every location is a surprise for Anastasia. We'll be back after lunch."

The woman makes an annoying mewling sound. Unsure how to respond, Christian merely smiles as he takes Ana's hand and heads back to their room. When they're out of earshot, Ana says, "You know they're all in love with you, right?"

"What? Your relatives? I don't think so. I've barely spoken with them."

Smiling at how he still doesn't see himself as others do, Ana says, "Gorgeous billionaire who's so intent on showing his wife a good time that he's traced her family tree and is taking her on a once in a lifetime tour of her ancestors' home. I'm surprised we don't have women following us, begging to join in."

Used to the effect he has on women, Christian shrugs and says, "It's just my appearance, baby. Something about this face turns them on."

"Darling, it's not your face, though you are gorgeous; your personality is what they fall for. Did you see any of the other husbands waiting on their wives?"

He'd fetched anything Ana needed while she ate – HP sauce at Ann's recommendation, salt and pepper, orange juice, a second cup of tea – but hadn't thought anything of it. "I don't give a fuck how other guys do it. You deserve to be waited on. If you'd permit it, I'd do everything for you."

Laughing that someone so smart can still be so clueless, Ana shakes her head and says, "I give up. But I really hope that one day you understand what makes you irresistible."

Grinning, Christian says, "I don't need to understand it, so long as _you_ can't resist me."

"I certainly find it very difficult. Do we have time for me to remind you?"

They're almost to their door when Pru suddenly enters the corridor from a nearby room. On seeing them she winks and says, "Smile if you had sex last night." Looking at Christian, she then says, "Okay; scowl if you had sex last night. Lighten up, Christian. I'm pretty sure everyone who stayed here knows…"

Desperate to ease Christian's growing tension, Ana interrupts, "You're still in time for breakfast if you hurry. We'll see you this afternoon."

Breezing by them, kissing Ana's cheek in greeting as she does so, Pru says, "Excellent. Nothing better than a good fry-up to cure what ails me. I'll see you lovebirds later."

Christian watches her go with murder in his eyes and mutters, "I really don't like that woman."

Easing her slightly crushed hand from his, Ana laughs and flexes it as she says, "Evidently."

Immediately contrite, Christian cradles her hand in both of his and raises it to his lips before saying, "Sorry." Then turning to open their door, he continues, "And, in answer to your question, we don't have time right now. But I will give you the chance, later…hopefully a little quieter next time."

As they enter the room, Ana says, "You're not really bothered by what Pru said, are you?"

His expression pained, Christian says, "It's no one's fucking business whether or not we fuck."

Not for the first time mystified by the anomaly that is her husband, Ana says, "Darling, I'm pregnant. I think they know."

Clearly uncomfortable with the entire discussion, Christian explains, "Before I met you, not even my family knew that I had sex. Now, all of Norfolk knows."

Surprisingly unconcerned, given how shy she was when they met, Ana laughs and says, "If they do, I'm sure they're just jealous that I'm married to such a stud."

With that boyish grin she'd do anything for, Christian says, "Well, that's true."

* * *

It takes some doing to get bodyguards, nurse and mother-in-law into the Range Rover with them, but Ana and Christian are finally underway on this clear but cool winter's day. Carla instantly bonds with Bree, which is just as well since they're forced to sit next to each other. Ana stifles her laugh when Carla lowers her shades only enough to show her bloodshot eyes and confess, "Not quite enough orange juice in my vodka last night."

Bree laughs a little and says, "I've seen worse…occasionally in the mirror. Just keep sipping that water. You'll be fine."

It's enough that the two women are soon lost in conversation, leaving the couple effectively alone. Glad that Carla has a friend for the journey, Ana feels Christian's stare and glances at him, only to see that he's actually staring at her rounded belly. Shuffling in his seat so that he can comfortably rest a hand over their son, he quietly says, "Last night, I forgot. I'm sorry."

He hasn't yet met her eyes, so Ana comprehends that he's talking to the baby – apologizing for not reminding their son that he's loved – and wordlessly places a hand over his in support. When he finally lifts his gaze to hers, she whispers, "I'm sorry, too."

"You didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart."

"No, but I could have eased your pain. Unfortunately, I was too lost in my own melancholy. Despite how it sometimes feels, you're not actually in control of my moods, darling. If I'm sad, it's mostly nothing to do with you."

After a glance to check that the older women are indeed distracted, Christian quietly says, "Yeah, Flynn says that, too. But I can't endure you suffering."

"You can. We know this, because you have. Your strength since my diagnosis has been incredible. I could have had a breakdown with all that's happened, but knowing that you were staying strong for me gave me the courage to get through each day."

His brow puckered in confusion, Christian says, "I'm not sure what you're asking of me, baby."

"Uh, I guess that…I mostly hide it from you when things are getting me down, because you always feel responsible and try to fix it. But you did really well last night, so maybe…okay, I'm not sure."

Christian considers for a moment and suggests, "You think that I'm ready to be trusted even with your sad tears?"

All her scattered thoughts fall into place and Ana realizes that's exactly what she'd been thinking. Still nervous about asking too much of him, she says only, "What do you think?"

"How did you feel when I had to go for a run?"

Ana shrugs and says, "Not too bad; maybe a three. I know you solve problems better on your feet, and I understand why strong emotions make you uncomfortable. Gave me a chance to have a good cry. And I knew you'd return…actually you surprised me coming back so soon."

Christian smiles and realizes, "You didn't have a chance to dry your eyes."

Ana blushes a little and says, "Exactly."

They're quiet for a while, just silently reinforcing their love for each other, then Christian asks, "What else is making you sad?"

Genuinely moved that he's not only understood her wishes, but is immediately compliant, Ana smiles and says, "Thank you. But can we talk about it later? I want to enjoy whatever wonderful surprise you've got in store for us."

"Sure, baby. And it's mostly farmland for a while, so you might as well try for some more sleep."

Ana is almost asleep when Christian's voice drags her back to consciousness. "What is it?"

She only realizes that he's not talking to her when Lea explains, "I wasn't sure at first. But we've been followed since Thetford. Secure any drinks and hang on. We chose this car for a reason."

Utterly confused, Ana looks to Christian – whose eyes are shining with excitement at this development – and he says, "Looks like a slight detour is in order." To Lea, he more loudly commands, "Not too bumpy."

"No, sir."

Carla actually sounds afraid when she asks, "What's going on?"

Christian leans forward enough to rest a hand on her arm for a moment and say, "Just relax. You're about to find out why we need two bodyguards."

With everyone secure and prepared, Nigel suddenly throws the car into a turn, leaving the highway and hurtling along a dirt track…mud track. Under Lea's constant direction, he makes several turns and, seemingly miraculously, pops back out onto the highway again.

"Did it work?"

Glancing back at Christian, Lea grins and says, "We'll know soon enough, sir." To the wide-eyed women, she says, "Sorry about that, folks. Normal service will resume shortly."

Heart rate returning to normal, Ana asks Christian, "How can we be newsworthy here?"

Christian shrugs and says, "It's an international market nowadays. A local reporter could sell the story, with or without photos, to a US news syndicate…hell, they could do it with only a phone."

"So one of my relatives called the press?"

"It doesn't have to be that deliberate. They could have just mentioned the reunion in a public setting and the news filtered down to someone who cares enough to do a little digging. We'll always have to be careful about travel plans."

Ana is still pondering the implications of this when Lea says, "Looks like we lost them, sir."

"Good job. Who has to clean the car?"

Without taking his eyes off the road, Nigel says, "Unfortunately, that would be me, sir."

Impressed that it was so easy, Ana quietly says to Christian, "They work well together, don't they?"

Christian smiles and says, "Probably the twin thing, though I don't know if that still holds when they're not identical."

She'd noticed some resemblance, but assumed it was because the two were born in the same country, not from the same womb. "They're twins? How do you know?"

With that frustratingly bemused look, that always makes Ana feel like an idiot, he says, "You think I'd put our safety in the hands of the first team who showed up at the airport?"

Suddenly comprehending that Christian knew exactly who their minders are, even before leaving Seattle, Ana can only say, "Oh." Thankfully, he's too much of a gentleman to comment on her ignorance. After a while, she muses, "I really have got used to just relying on you, for almost everything."

His quiet smile widening into one of pure delight, Christian declares, "Good."

The familiar angry butterflies in her stomach proving that this concept still bothers her, Ana trusts him enough to quote, "A strong woman who recklessly throws away her strength, she is worse than a weak woman who has never had any strength to throw away."

Keeping his volume moderated for just the two of them, Christian counters, "Hardly reckless, my love; you only surrender to me, and then only when it suits both of us." When she still looks doubtful, he continues, "You've been soaring with me; what would happen if we fought the air currents?" Ana is still pondering this when he concludes, "Only by surrendering to the air can we ride it."

Somewhat appeased by this analogy, and warmed by pleasant memories, Ana smiles and says, "Sounds like a quote."

"A mangling of a line from _Song of Solomon_, by Toni Morrison." Leaning over to kiss her cheek, he then instructs, "Rest, baby. We'll revisit this later."

With their exciting and unexpected off-road jaunt through the English countryside, Ana still hasn't managed to get sleepy enough for a nap when Carla exclaims, "I can smell the ocean."

Christian smiles at Ana and explains, "Southwold; for many years the home of author George Orwell – not born an Englishman, but he'll do for a start. The town also has the prettiest beach huts in the country and, I'm told, the best fish and chips in the world." With a modest shrug, he concludes, "And a surprise that I'll reveal over lunch."

Smiling at his enthusiasm, Ana says, "Fish and chips, I presume?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you're okay with me having fried food for breakfast and lunch?"

Apparently sincere, Christian smiles and says, "Relax, baby, we're on vacation."

They enjoy a lovely morning, the skies staying clear as if on command. After a whirlwind visit to the house that George Orwell shared with his parents, the local museum, pier, lighthouse and beach, Christian says, "Ladies, if you'll excuse me, I have an errand to run. I'm told that the Amber Shop and Museum is definitely worth a look, and there are several boutique stores." Kissing Ana's cheek, he more quietly says, "Stay with Lea. Have fun, baby."

Suddenly, ridiculously reluctant to be without him, even though she'd been enjoying cooing over everything with Carla, Ana whines, "Where are you going?"

Christian grins and says, "That surprise I mentioned. I won't be long." Leaning close enough that only she can hear, he sets her blood humming with a whispered, "And I'll miss you, too."

By the time the women have exhausted the shopping opportunities in this picturesque seaside town, they can see Nigel near the water's edge, and guess that Christian is nearby. Approaching, Ana spots her husband sitting on the remains of an old jetty. Next to him is a young boy – maybe twelve years old – who is apparently talking nonstop while Christian unravels tangled fishing line. She's staring, mesmerized by the scene, when Nigel explains, "The kid was crying as we walked past, and threw the rod away in frustration. Without a word, Mr. Grey picked it up and sat down to untangle it. After a while, the kid just started talking to him and hasn't stopped."

Ana is too moved to say anything. Carla asks, "How long has he been at it?"

Nigel glances at his watch and says, "At least twenty minutes."

Thoroughly enjoying this rare glimpse of what Christian might be like as a father, Ana cannot take her eyes off the scene, but laughs and nods her agreement when Carla warmly says, "He's not too bad once you get to know him, is he?"

Several more minutes later, Christian carefully reels in the now freed line and hands the fishing rod back to its overjoyed young owner. Unable to bear the distance between them any longer, Ana moves forward to greet Christian as he picks up what looks like a bottle in a brown paper bag and smiles as he meets her halfway. They kiss almost long enough to make up for their time apart and then he murmurs, for her ears only, "You kind of want to fuck me right now, don't you?"

Almost as quietly, Ana means every word when she says, "Right now, I'd do anything you want."

With a self-satisfied grin, Christian says "Lucky for you, all I want is for you to eat a decent lunch," and points towards a small hut with a sign out the front announcing _Mrs. T's FISH & CHIPS._ The line waiting to be served on this fine Sunday is depressingly long. But Christian's good mood apparently cannot be dimmed and he says, "See if you can find a table. I'll get the food."

The women swoop on a picnic table when one becomes vacant and the men soon arrive with the food. Surprised that she's so hungry, given the size of breakfast, Ana almost attacks the steaming parcel of delicately battered fish and hand-cut chunky fries. Holding one up, she says, "Chips, right?"

His mouth full of food, apparently permitted to eat while Lea watches over all of them, Nigel says, "Right. And you really must try a chip butty before you leave. I've heard that your country is sadly lacking in that particular delicacy."

With his accent, the description sounds like a baby's boot made of chips. "A chip what?"

Looking to Christian, Nigel pleads, "Sir?"

Christian shrugs and says, "If you're quick."

Nigel grins and sprints off on his mission. In the meantime, Christian splashes a small amount of what looks like a dark ale into a plastic cup for Ana and says, "Just this once, we'll have a drink."

Bree silently declines and Carla accepts a small amount. Only on tasting it does Ana know and is almost in tears at Christian's loving gesture when she remembers, "This is the beer we had with lunch the day you first took me on The Grace." To an attentive Carla, she explains, "His yacht."

Obviously pleased that she's remembered, Christian smiles and says, "Yes. Adnams brewery, where it's made, is nearby. Didn't seem much point having a tour when you're pregnant, but I thought you might like this trip down memory lane."

Almost too moved to speak, that he would remember something seemingly so trivial, and make it special, Ana manages, "Thank you."

Tapping his bottle against her cup, Christian says, "You're welcome, baby."

Nigel then returns, carrying a plastic bag that proves to contain fresh white bread and salted butter. Producing a knife, as if by magic, he says to Ana, "Now, it must always be fresh bread and quality chips like this, okay?"

Amused at his enthusiasm, and beginning to work out what a "chip butty" is, Ana smiles and says, "Got it."

Spreading a lavish amount of butter on two slices, he then holds one out to Ana on a napkin and commands, "Chip me."

With a nervous glance at Christian, seeing that he's only amused, fingertips resting on his lips as he tries to conceal his smile, Ana covers the bread with still steaming chips and says, "Done."

"Hmm, not too bad, for a first attempt. But the aim is to minimize the amount of air between each chip." Then completing the sandwich with the other slice of bread, Nigel says, "Now, mind, this is the most important part of the process. Are you paying attention, Mrs. Grey?"

Managing, just barely, to keep a straight face, Ana says, "Of course."

With a dramatic flourish, Nigel raises a hand and presses down on the sandwich, flattening the whole thing into something that looks like it should be stepped around, not eaten. Then holding the finished product out to a clearly nervous Ana, he says, "Trust me."

With a shrug, Ana reaches out for the squashed offering as she says, "Thank you."

Just before she takes it, Nigel says, "I've heard that some of your countrymen add ketchup or even mustard. But you must promise me never to use anything other than sea salt and malt vinegar on chips."

A breath away from dissolving into laughter at his solemn expression, Ana asks, "What about fries?"

Dismissively waving his free hand, Nigel says, "Those you can do with as you wish."

Accepting the sandwich, Ana vows, "I promise." It really is surprisingly good, and Ana is able to truthfully say, "Best chip butty I've ever had."

Apparently satisfied with this noncommittal answer, Nigel smiles and resumes his meal. It's Bree – no doubt familiar with the effects of such a diet on the British population – who can't stop herself from saying what everyone is thinking. "Wouldn't be a good idea to have this every day, though."

Not even bothering to empty her mouth first, Ana smiles around the carbs and deliberately echoes Christian's earlier instruction when she says, "Relax, we're on vacation."

With a grateful smile, Christian leans over to kiss Ana's cheek and declare, "Now you're getting the idea."

* * *

Where credit's due: Shellypg, for suggesting Southwold and supplying valuable information about the area. Thank you.

To my other British fans; feel free to go nuts (Private Message or email) with local info about settings for authors such as Shakespeare, Thomas Hardy, Bronte sisters, Jane Austen, William Wordsworth, Beatrix Potter, Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, A. A. Milne and (one of my earliest favorites) Agatha Christie. I know there are many others worthy of note, but our travelers are only on vacation for two weeks.

"To eat well in England you should have breakfast three times a day." – W. Somerset Maugham

"A strong woman who recklessly throws away her strength, she is worse than a weak woman who has never had any strength to throw away." – Thomas Hardy, _Tess of the D'Urbervilles_


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-two

Ana's eyes prove bigger than her stomach, and Christian is again finishing her meal when she asks, "Is everything on our itinerary for me alone?"

Looking at Carla, deep in conversation with Bree, he reveals, "I offered, but she insisted that being here was enough, because Savannah seems increasingly too far away from us as your pregnancy progresses."

"No, darling, I was asking for you; what are we doing for _you_?"

Smiling down at her, there is nothing but sincerity in his voice when Christian promises, "Seeing you safe and well is all I need, baby."

Too moved by his earnest declaration to at first continue, Ana swallows too much emotion and says, "Still, I'd rather we do some stuff that you'd enjoy; something to do with music, maybe? I'll end up feeling like shit if we don't."

With a pointed glance at Carla, Christian quietly cautions, "Watch your language." Then addressing Nigel, now standing nearby while Lea eats, he asks, "How long to Aldeburgh from here?"

"Uh, about thirty minutes, sir. Change of plans?"

Smiling at his grateful wife, Christian says, "Yes. Today is No Plan Day. There's a free concert this afternoon on the beach. But we need to be back in Thetford by three."

Glancing at his watch, Nigel says, "Then we'd better leave right away."

Getting Carla's attention, Christian announces, "Come on, ladies. You can finish that in the car. We have a short, unscheduled stop."

Utterly confused, Carla asks, "What? Why?"

Still with an apparently unstoppable smile, Christian is looking at Ana as he says, "Because your daughter is teaching me the joys of spontaneity."

On the short drive to Aldeburgh, Christian explains why it's associated with the brilliant composer Benjamin Britten, and concludes, "We should get there just in time to hear an orchestra playing part of one of his operas. The _Four Sea Interludes_ are variously entitled Dawn, Sunday Morning, Moonlight and Storm."

With a wary expression, Carla asks, "How long will this take?"

"Not a fan of classical music, Carla?" When she only shrugs, Christian says, "You can relax. It'll take about twenty minutes. We have to return to Thetford in time for your daughter to swing through the trees."

They've already discussed Go Ape and Carla has consented to be photographer for the duration…from the ground. "It's not _really_ dangerous, is it?"

Strangely comforted by the thought, Ana confidently declares, "If it were, Christian wouldn't be okay with it, Mom."

Seemingly now at ease with his decision, Christian assures, "I'll stay with her, Carla."

That apparently settles the matter to Carla's satisfaction. They soon arrive at another perfect seaside town; Aldeburgh. Ana isn't very surprised when Carla begs off to do yet more shopping, merely smiling at Christian's caution to return in time or risk being left behind. As he watches the three women head to the nearest store, he shakes his head and says, "I don't think your Mom is afraid of me at all."

Thrilled that he and Carla are getting along so well – one of her concerns before they'd left home – Ana gently teases, "Either it's a family trait, or you're just not that scary, Mr. Grey."

Taking Ana in his arms, tenderly forcing her hands behind her back and pulling her hard up against his apparently ready and willing body, Christian quietly promises, "Very soon, I'll remind you just how scary I can be."

Her senses reeling from this unusually public display of kinky affection, Ana is almost dizzy with desire as she squeaks, "Okay."

His face split with a delighted grin at the effect he has on her, Christian just laughs and hauls her towards the shore, an unobtrusive Nigel close behind. Lost in the sights around them, Ana trusts her feet to his guidance. There are more Christmas decorations here than she'd seen in Southwold, and she idly wonders why. As they merge with the crowd on the beach, within sight of the small orchestra, Christian brings them to a halt and whispers, "Put your hands on your hips."

Curious, Ana does as bid, asking, "And?"

Manhandling her for a second, pushing her hands a little further back and adjusting her elbows, he then instructs, "Now stick out your belly."

Working out that this will announce her pregnancy to any and all who see her, Ana waits for the reason why as he then motions that she should precede him. They're approaching a huge metal sculpture, about twelve feet high, that looks like a broken scallop shell. The broad base of the exquisite piece is apparently intended as a seat, because it's covered with music lovers and buffed to a sparkling sheen from constant use. Christian chooses his target and takes a moment to check Ana's appearance before winking at her, then turning to address the young man, "Excuse me, sir. Would you mind?"

Following Christian's open-handed gesture to his obviously pregnant wife, the youth's expression turns from sullen hostility to contrition in a second, and he leaps up, nudging his friend as he does so, saying, "Uh, yeah. Of course."

Mortified to be so used, Ana blushes and mumbles "Thank you," as the gentleman smile and nod before moving away to seek another place of rest. Sitting down, with Christian's assistance, she complains, "That wasn't nice."

Clearly pleased with himself, Christian joins her as he says, "Of course it was. The kid feels like a hero, and all he had to do was stand up. I'm glad to see that chivalry is not quite dead in modern Britain."

Her entire being suffused with happiness, Ana smiles and asks, "And if he hadn't stood up?"

Mirroring her smile, it's impossible to tell if he's joking when he quietly vows, "Then we would have found out how well I can keep my promise of never hitting someone in anger."

When he then leans his back against the pleasantly curved metal and offers Ana an arm, she snuggles into his side, warmed by everything about him, and says, "This is pretty."

"It was made in tribute to Britten." Pointing up above them, he explains, "Can't quite see it from here, but there's a quote from his most famous opera punched out along the top; 'I hear those voices that will not be drowned.'"

Again awed by this man beside her, Ana asks, "How do you know so much?"

Christian laughs a little and says, "That one was luck. The owner of Adnams brewery helped pay for it, so I found out when I was researching Southwold. Apparently, the sculpture is not popular with the locals."

"I like it."

With a quiet smile, Christian says, "Wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you're here in my arms, would it?"

"Perhaps. I love you, Christian."

He's heard those last four words every day for several months, yet this simple assertion, in a sincere tone – and it's always sincere – still takes his breath away.

The music starts then, so Ana leans her head on his shoulder to enjoy it; trusting that, if her talented husband wants to be here, the experience will be worth the journey.

Christian takes a moment to calm his breathing, then kisses the top of her head and says, "Thank you, Anastasia."

The first interlude pierces Ana's chest with something like optimism…perhaps even eager anticipation. Thankfully, for the uneducated like her, the musicians leave a pause long enough to announce the next passage of music, but short enough to preclude distracting applause. The second doesn't sit well with her, and she resolves to ask Christian about it later. The third – she remembers is called "Moonlight" – sounds absolutely perfect to her untrained ear, and she feels almost as if the two of them are alone…three of them, for the baby then starts writhing and kicking, as if he's dancing. She silently lets Christian know, so that he can rest a hand on her abdomen and feel the movements; an activity for which he apparently has endless enthusiasm.

The abrupt and violent start of "Storm" is a shock, no doubt intentionally; Ana can easily picture waves building and crashing. Remembering this is from an opera, she's suddenly afraid for the protagonists. But then the crescendo eases somewhat and, in her mind's eye, she sees a slight parting of the storm clouds, revealing a hopeful patch of blue sky. However, it's short-lived, and she imagines a tiny boat being swamped by impossibly large waves as the music again builds, then suddenly concludes with a crushing blow.

Almost immediately, the entire foreshore comes to life with appropriately thunderous applause. As it eventually dies down, Ana asks Christian, "They don't make it, do they?"

"The opera is a tragedy." Christian hesitates before nervously asking, "You're interested?"

Opera is not something that has ever appealed to her in the past, but suddenly it feels almost like a need. "I am. Will we have time while we're here?"

"You'd accompany me to the opera?"

Smiling at his disbelief, Ana says, "Yes, please."

Still unsure, Christian says, "I didn't think you'd ever want to."

Not sure what's changed, except that almost anything is more fun with Christian beside her, Ana shrugs and suggests, "Maybe I've matured."

Christian smiles and says, "All right, baby; the opera it is. But it had better wait until you're not hormonal and weeping every day, or your sobs will drown out the arias."

Ana pokes that ticklish spot on his ribs as she again accuses, "Not nice, Grey."

Laughing, Christian springs to his feet, out of reach, and helps her to stand as he says, "No, but accurate." Hand in hand, on their way back to the car, he asks, "So, you enjoyed it?"

"I did, except for…was the second one 'Sunday Morning'?"

"Yeah, they fucked that up a little. It was…they should have made it livelier. The rest was well done, though. What was your favorite?"

His question a little too keen, Ana guesses that he's hoping it will be the same as hers. So she grins and suggests, "On three, we both say which one we like the most." Christian also grins and nods his assent. Ana counts, "One…two…," and then they both exclaim, "Moonlight!"

Delighted, Christian laughs and gestures to their son as he points out, "A family favorite, then."

They both grin like kids for a while. Then Ana asks, "They really like this Britten guy, huh?"

"Today is his birthday. So the entire weekend is devoted to celebrating his works. But, yes, they like him. He lived here for quite a while, and built a now internationally famous concert hall nearby. The centenary of his birth is in a couple of years. I imagine the festivities will go on all year for that one."

"Can we come back here, then? I feel bad that I'm dragging you away so soon."

Kissing her forehead, Christian then says, "Sure, if you still want to. But don't feel bad, baby. I had a wonderful time. Sharing music with you is perhaps the most intimate thing we do."

They're approaching the Range Rover, and the women are already waiting, so Ana lowers her voice to say, "I dunno; we've done some fairly intimate things." Of course, she'd understood his real meaning, but is too happy not to turn it into a game.

As usual, Christian quickly proves that he will always win this particular game. Leaning close, his warm breath against her ear sending a shudder of pleasure through her, he whispers, "Tonight, I'm going to fuck you by moonlight in Thetford forest." The power of her sudden need for him causing her step to falter from the trembling in her legs, Ana is still unable to speak when he quietly asks, "Intimate enough for you, baby?"

Her only answer is a blissful smile.

Carla shrewdly appraises her daughter's appearance as they approach and asks, "You two _were_ listening to music, right?"

Ana giggles and says, "Yes, Mom. It was really good. Christian is taking me to the opera after the baby is born."

Climbing into the car, Carla says, "You're on your own with that one, kiddo. Your late grandfather took me one time when I was in my teens. I think he hoped that I might share his love for it, but I fell asleep."

Helping Ana into her seat, Christian asks, "Which one was it?"

Clearly unimpressed, Carla waves it away and says, "Oh, who the hell knows; something with a clown singing…I mean, an actual clown! Can you believe it?"

Christian, his eyes sparkling with barely suppressed humor, reveals, "Pagliacci; not one of my favorites, though it remains popular." As he takes his seat, he continues, "There's a 'Pagliacci Pizza' near my parent's place. Their gourmet pizzas are delicious, and the pasta dishes even more so. Perhaps that might ease your pain, Carla?"

Looking only at Ana, Carla's smile indicates she's not upset when she asks, "Why do I feel like he's laughing at me?"

Their gentle, teasing manner sending her happiness to new heights, Ana laughs and says, "Welcome to my world."

Carla levels a powerless glare at Christian before returning her attention to her new best friend, Bree, as this time Lea takes the wheel.

Returning to Thetford, the still persistent sun streaming in through the car windows, and enough carbohydrates in her belly for the coming week, Ana simply cannot stay awake. Her eyelids flickering in an attempt to fight it, the last thing she sees is Christian smiling at her as he mouths, "Sleep."

She wakes to see that they're outside Wereham House, and Christian is at her open door, saying, "Just time to freshen up before we head for the trees."

He's already unclipped her seatbelt. Yawning, Ana almost falls out of the car, thankfully steadied by his strong arm. "Sorry…sleepy."

His expression a little too intent, he asks, "Need more rest, baby?"

So she knows that he's still worried about Go Ape. Only Nigel is nearby, so Ana guesses that the others are already inside. "You've researched this?"

"Yes."

"Including any injuries that have ever happened?"

"Yes." When Ana says nothing else, a suddenly aloof Christian clinically explains, "One fatality; of unrelated natural causes. The adult course can leave bruises, scratches and cuts, and is open to serious injury from falling. But the junior course doesn't allow for such injuries, and every participant must wear a helmet."

"Can you be okay with this? You must know that I would never proceed if it will really make you anxious." She knows that Christian will once again be everything she needs when his expression suddenly relaxes and he thumps his chest with clenched fists. When he's done, Ana moves into his embrace as she seductively asks, "You Tarzan?"

She can see that the title pleases him, from the sudden flare of desire in his eyes. Holding her close, Christian says only "Yes," but their close contact confirms that he's imagining far more; she can actually feel his erection growing between them.

"Do we have time?"

Almost ferociously kissing her, Christian abruptly releases her and says, "No. But you'd better pee, because you'll be harnessed to a steel cable for the next hour or so."

Once again whisked away in his wake (how many times since they met?), Ana is determined to gain the upper hand, and appreciatively murmurs, "Mmm…harnessed to a steel cable."

Christian hisses in surprise and rocks to a standstill. Glancing around, seeing only a studiously inattentive Nigel, he closes the tiny gap between them and smiles his pride as he warmly avows, "Oh, I love you, Anastasia." Ana knows that she's won this round when he kisses the tip of her nose and promises, "Tonight."

Ten minutes later, everyone except Bree is back in the car. This December afternoon, Thetford forest is still mostly sunny, but very chilly within the shade of the tall trees. Even without the large sign and gorilla statue near the gate, it's easy to see that they're in the right place by the many and varied wooden paths through the treetops, vanishing into the distance. They're greeted by the young manager, Anthony, who explains the basics and points them towards the safety briefing. Glancing above them, at the many rowdy "gorillas", he concludes, "As you can tell, several of your group are already participating in the adult and junior course. Assuming you've understood the basics, you can proceed when you're ready."

Shaking the guy's hand, Christian says, "Thank you. I understand that you stayed open another week, just so we could enjoy this?"

"Well, it was Pru's doing. But, yes. Thank you, for making it worth my while. My supervisor is thrilled that this final day for the season is such a success."

When he's gone, Christian answers Ana's confusion with, "They normally close for winter, but Prudence nagged him into staying open long enough for this. Only your relatives are here today."

"And you paid for it all…presumably and then some?" He's still smiling in answer when she exclaims, "Wait; her full name is Prudence?"

Christian laughs and says, "I know; defies belief, doesn't it?"

Ana also laughs and points out, "Like your name."

"Hey, I've been in a church."

"You mean, yesterday?"

"Yes." Again taking her hand, he says, "Come on. Let's get this over with, before I lose my nerve."

Kitted up in gloves, helmet and harness, and well-versed in safety procedures, they make their way to the first tree. Pru is waiting and greets them with, "Don't you love what the straps do for your twigs and berries, Christian?" Winking at Ana, she adds, "Not that he needs any help in that area."

Ana knows that Christian has decided to let the crass comments roll off his back when he gestures to Pru's groin and says, "Sadly, not so flattering to the slightly overweight female form."

Pru's mouth drops open and her eyes widen in shock, then she bursts out laughing and says, "So, you _do_ have a sense of humor? Then this should be a hoot. I thought it'd be best if I go first; show you how easy it is, then Ana, followed by you?"

"Perfect."

Ana takes a moment, before following Pru up to the first platform, to offer Christian a sincere, "Thank you."

He shrugs and says, "If I'm here, I might as well have fun." Gently shoving her, he adds, "Now, stop stalling." So Ana is laughing as she climbs the narrow, enclosed wooden staircase.

The first obstacle is relatively easy; wooden stepping stones in tic-tac-toe shapes. The second is only slightly more challenging; a narrow offset pattern of planks, which Ana likewise traverses with ease. Starting to wonder if the entire course is a little too easy for an adult, Ana eventually balks at row upon row of horizontal logs, secured at each end by a sturdy rope, but otherwise swinging free. Pru, of course, easily makes it to the other side and turns to wait for her.

Just putting her foot on the first log means that Ana stumbles and almost falls, except that Christian's sudden grip on the back of her harness would never have permitted it. "I'm okay."

"You're sure?"

At her nod, Christian releases her and gives her some room to try again. From the other platform, Pru calls out, "Just relax, Ana. It's much easier than it looks."

Ana can almost feel Christian's tension as a tangible force. Yet somehow, having him with her, even in his concerned mode, gives her the strength to move forward. Of course, she finds that Pru was right; relaxing shows why the challenge is within the abilities of the average child.

The rest of the hour is pure fun, with Pru and Christian constantly teasing each other, mostly as if Ana isn't even there, and all of them occasionally waving to Carla, filming from below. At one point, Christian taps Ana's shoulder and points in the distance, where a deer…a stag, stands resplendent in the last of the day's sunlight. The final obstacle again sets Ana's heart racing; an almost endless zip-line down to a pile of what looks like woodchips. She's unconsciously rubbing her belly in concern for her unborn child when Pru says, "It's real gradual, babe. You'll land as gentle as a feather. But, if you really can't do it, we can cut you free and lower you down."

With only two people permitted on each platform, the women are alone. When Ana nervously glances back towards Christian, he moves to join them, but she waves him away, glad that she sounds certain when she reassures him, "I'm okay."

She then nods to Pru, who beams at her and says, "That's m' girl. Remember to have fun, okay?"

Forcing a smile, Ana says, "I will. Besides, if I back out now, Christian would never let me forget it."

Pru laughs and says, "And that. See you on the ground." With that, she's gone, smiling and waving as she zips towards the ground.

Christian almost sprints across the rope bridge to Ana's side and enfolds her in his arms to ask, "Okay, baby?"

Her eyes glued to Pru's dwindling form, relieved to see that the descent is indeed fairly sedate, Ana nods and says, "Okay. Just got scared for Blip. But it actually looks like fun, doesn't it?"

His tone resigned, Christian says, "No. I don't know how the fuck you talked me into this."

Ana smiles at the memory of how tender he'd been last night, and says, "Apparently, you're too much of a gentleman to refuse a weeping woman."

Also smiling, he says "True, so it's just as well you're too much of a lady to use it against me," then lowers his lips to hers for a lingering reaffirmation of their love.

"Will you two hurry up? It's monkeys out here, now!"

Laughing at Pru's outraged tone, clearly audible even from so far below them, Ana mouths, "Monkeys?"

Grinning, Christian explains, "Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. She's right." Stepping back a little, he gestures to the zip-line and says, "After you, ma'am."

Determined to follow Pru's advice about having fun, Ana trusts in the ability of the harness to keep her safe as she lets herself fall off the platform, daring, "Catch me if you can!"

She knows very well that her safety conscious husband would never consider violating the rules enough to add his weight to the cable while she's on it. So the mixture of concern, sexual frustration and admiration on his face as she sails away from him means that she's laughing for pure joy as she gently but clumsily lands. An overjoyed Pru is immediately by her side and helps her get clear, then signals Christian.

Watching him glide to the ground and easily land on his feet – a task apparently beyond her – Ana marvels that he can somehow perform even this activity gracefully. His competence fuels her desire for him, already at a steady hum just from being with him all day. A tired but happy (and horny) Ana is still brushing woodchips from her clothing when Christian wraps her in his arms and warmly declares, "We are _never_ doing that again."

* * *

Where credit's due: To AriadneInNaxos, for suggesting Aldeburgh. Thank you.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter Thirty-three

Christian is helping Ana out of her harness inside the equipment room of Go Ape. They're effectively alone, being the last participants in the tree top adventure for the entire year, but he still takes the precaution of lowering his voice to run his fingertips over the straps and appreciatively murmur, "I like this; might get one."

Despite being assured by different professionals that Ana is effectively healthy and robust, they've not been in the playroom since Ana's surgery; his choice, not hers. Her heart beating faster in anticipation at the thought that he might be past his fear of hurting her if they indulge in anything other than light bondage, Ana asks, "You think…you're ready for more?"

With a hesitant smile, Christian says, "Maybe. I mean, if you can make like a gorilla, you're not that fragile, are you?"

Relieved that her patient acceptance of his trepidation appears to be paying off, Ana grins and says, "_Now_ you tell me; when we're away from home for two weeks!"

Christian smiles, embraces her and says, "Thanks, for being so understanding. I still occasionally have nightmares about seeing them cut into your brain."

Ana cheerfully reminds him, "A sight that you never witnessed, because they put up that curtain to block your view."

Reaching a hand down to cup her butt, he gently warns, "Well enough to play means well enough for punishment, Anastasia."

Beaming up at her apparently now kinky-as-ever husband, Ana says, "I hope so. It's not nearly as much fun torturing you if I know that there'll be no consequences." They've talked as if her punishments have continued uninterrupted. But, presumably for the same reason as his reluctance to play, Christian hasn't seriously taken his hand to her ass in a very long time. Of course, he could have continued with different punishments; he's always been creative that way, but he hasn't even done that. Ana didn't broach the subject with him, because she also hasn't felt the need for it; what with her illness, surgery and now pregnancy, then the media shit-storm that ensued. All of these factors have restricted her lifestyle more than even her self-confessed control freak husband would ever dare. But now, knowing that Christian is considering resuming Domestic Discipline, she's once again eager and, again, amazed at this need that had remained dormant within her psyche until their fateful meeting.

Nothing but love in his voice, Christian observes, "You're brave when we're thousands of miles from home."

Literally thrilled to be able to play her favorite game again – awakening Angry/playful Christian – Ana declares, "Like I said; you're not that scary, Grey."

One eyebrow raised, Christian calmly asks, "Is that consent, baby?"

Only now nervous, having learned to be wary of that "innocent" tone, Ana thinks about it for a few moments; despite it not always being easy accepting punishment from her husband, she's more certain than ever that it's ultimately the best thing…for both of them. "Uh, yes."

His voice rich with promise, Christian instructs, "Say it, in your own words, so that I'll know we're in accord."

"We'll discuss the parameters before proceeding?"

A nod and, "Of course."

"And not while we're on vacation? I don't want Mom knowing about this."

His eyes widening for a second, Christian promises, "Fuck, no."

A steady hum of excitement, like electricity, running through her veins, Ana is pleased that her voice remains steady when she says, "Husband, I hereby consent to you disciplining me as you see fit, so that I can be a better wife." On a whim, she adds, "And mother."

His tone warm, Christian says, "Those are some good words, baby. I'm so proud of you. But you barely put a foot wrong nowadays. I'll have my work cut out for me finding _any_ transgressions."

Pleased that he's noticed her efforts, Ana says, "Maybe I've just got better at hiding it when I misbehave?"

With a knowing smile, Christian says, "Or, maybe it causes you genuine distress to disappoint me?"

It had taken Ana a while to realize this fact, even longer to accept it, and she still feels something like…betrayal of self to acknowledge it. "You've always known that about me, haven't you?"

"Almost always, yes." Hesitating only a second, Christian confesses, "Perhaps because I feel the same way."

A brisk knock on the door is the only warning they get before Pru enters, sees them in each other's arms and says, "No wonder you're taking so long. I thought maybe the buckles were proving too much for you." With a lecherous grin, she adds, "Need a few minutes?"

Releasing Ana to instead take her hand, Christian jokes, "Yes. Fuck off, Pru-dence."

Looking genuinely upset for the first time since they met, Pru protests, "No one calls me that. I _hate_ it."

Clearly untroubled, Christian brusquely counters, "Then perhaps you'll remember that before yet again interrupting me when I'm speaking with my wife." Ana recognizes Dominant Christian in the last few words, and is suddenly worried that she'll need to intervene.

Pru's pique disappears in an instant, and she cheerfully declares to Ana, "He's deliciously domineering, isn't he?"

Considering the topic of their conversation just before Pru entered, Ana is powerless to stop her resulting laughter. Christian is glowering at both of them as he coolly says, "Time for dinner, I think."

Pru laughs and clutches her chest as she says, "Oh, be still my beating heart." In the next breath continuing, "Hurry up. I'll take Carla in with me. She's freezing."

When she's gone, Christian shakes his head and says, "Another one who's not afraid of me. Am I losing my touch?"

He seems genuinely concerned, so Ana points out, "Near as I can tell, before meeting me, most of the women you encountered were either sycophants who couldn't wait to work for you, or true submissives. I'm afraid, Mr. Grey, that most women are not so easily intimidated."

Tracing the line of her face with a gentle caress, Christian's gaze again expresses only love when he says, "Clearly." Then leading her out the door, he continues, "Come on. If you recall, I have after-dinner plans."

It's only a short walk to the High Lodge in Thetford forest, where they're having an early dinner. As they approach the huge building, now decorated with hundreds of Christmas lights as the day ends, Ana can hear rowdy celebration within and asks Christian, "My family?"

"Yes, baby; what's left of them. Some had to return home, of course. I'm afraid there're enough of them left to form a scary mob. Some of them even brought their children today; the little monkeys you saw in the trees earlier."

Of course, Christian holds the door open for her, so Ana is first to enter and is greeted by applause and cheers, that soon dissolves into congratulatory ape sounds. Embarrassed, as always, at being the center of attention, Ana is wishing she could just disappear when Christian puts a gentle guiding hand on her lower back and whispers, "If you sit down, they'll shut the fuck up."

Only then realizing that standing still and blushing is only encouraging them, Ana gratefully lets him guide her to the vacant chair near Ann Lambert. By some silent cue, probably their arrival, the meal is then served. Christian leans close and says, "My apologies, beforehand. This is more of a cafeteria than a restaurant, though the food is homemade. You know that I didn't have much time to set this up."

Mortified that he feels like it might not be enough for her, after all that he's already done to make this trip something she'll treasure forever, Ana rests her hand on his and says, "Thank you, darling. Every new day with you is still the best day of my life."

Apparently, it's enough, because Christian actually looks a little embarrassed at her praise, and they eat their deliciously appropriate hot soup and fresh bread while chatting with those nearest them. Next, Ana learns of another British treasure; Cornish pasties. As dessert is served, Christian quietly instructs her, "Leave some room; part of my plans include a sweet treat."

Almost full, but not wanting to miss out on apple crumble with custard, she counters, "Half each?"

Humor sparkling in his eyes, Christian haggles, "Two thirds for me?"

"Deal."

After the meal, Ana has time for mingling. Soon with a question for Christian, she goes in search of him and eventually finds him squatting down, chatting with a young girl. "So, you're Ana's cousin?"

With an amused glance at what must be her father, the child laughs and shakes her head, saying, "No. Guess again."

"Her niece?"

With another giggle, the girl insists, "No."

Throwing his hands up in surrender, Christian says, "I give up. You'll have to tell me."

"I'm her auntie, silly."

Smacking his forehead with his palm, Christian exclaims, "Auntie! Of course." Then extending his hand in greeting, he says, "A pleasure to meet you, Aunt Lucy. I'm Christian."

As they rather formally shake hands, Christian catches sight of Ana and stands, saying, "Gotta go; your niece is looking for me." Approaching Ana, he accepts her into his embrace and says, "Have you worked out yet who's who? It's beyond me."

Ana laughs and says, "Nope. Some of them say they're my cousin, but it's actually third cousin twice removed or some such thing, so I've given up. Hey, what's this Electric Forest that they're talking about?"

Showing the infuriating smile, that means he won't reveal the surprise until he's ready, Christian says, "Go pee and put your coat on; you're about to find out."

"I've just been."

"Oh, I wondered where you'd got to."

Smiling, Ana asks, "Miss me?"

"Always, baby."

Ana then wonders which one of them is the Pied Piper when, after Christian helps with her coat, the children in the room follow them en masse – armed with flashlights against the dark and layers of clothing against the cold – dragging weary parents with them. It's immediately evident what the Electric Forest is; the nearby play equipment is brightly lit up against a stunning backdrop of the tallest trees in the forest, now illuminated by multi-hued spotlights. The spectacle quite takes Ana's breath away. She's still staring, as children run past her to participate, when Christian's gentle, guiding hand is again at her back and he says, "Come on, baby, the real show is inside the forest."

The path is easy to follow, and they have headlamps for the darker areas. Ana holds Christian's hand as they first walk beneath a canopy of lanterns, then under the same platforms they traversed earlier, past countless disco balls highlighted by spotlights that make the forest actually sparkle with pinpoints of light, plus a sound and light show that renders everyone speechless, because it's not just light; music is playing throughout, creating a feast for the senses as they meander along the path. And most of it is interactive, meaning that the delighted squeals of happy children and the happy laughter of childish adults add to the symphony. Eventually, they reach an open area dotted with child-friendly fires, where several families are already toasting marshmallows, and there's hot chocolate available. Smiling, Ana asks, "My sweet treat?"

"Exactly."

They linger for a while, sipping cocoa and roasting marshmallows, which are greedily gobbled up by the nearest child. Christian, of course, is careful that no sticky fingers or mouths are injured by the almost molten sugary treats. The stragglers catch up with them; among them, Carla, who leaves Ann Lambert's side to approach the couple as she exclaims, "This is amazing!"

Christian offers her his seat as he asks, "Hot chocolate?"

"Oh, yes, please." Watching him walk over to the concession stand, Carla says, "Think I'll turn in early tonight, kiddo."

"You okay, Mom?"

Smiling, Carla says, "I _am_ tired. But it's more…let's just say, if Bob were here in this romantic setting, you kids would be on your own, so I'll give you some alone time. Think Christian will mind?"

Embarrassed at even the inference of her Mom having sex, Ana is blushing from more than the fire when she says, "Uh, no. I don't think he'll mind. Thanks, Mom."

When Christian soon returns with her steaming beverage, Carla says, "Thank you. Okay if I borrow the car and head back to the inn after this?"

With a glance at Ana, who merely smiles, Christian replies, "Uh, yes, so long as you don't mind if one our team drives you? No offence, Carla, but these are unfamiliar roads and…"

Holding up a hand to forestall his explanation, Carla says, "That's fine. Thank you, Christian, for another wonderful day."

Beaming, Christian says, "Truly my pleasure."

After finishing her drink, Carla excuses herself to catch up with Ann Lambert again. Lost in thought, Ana is staring after her mother, where she is now approaching the older woman sitting in the wheelchair; pushed by her carer, Jerry. Of course, Christian notices her subdued mood and quietly asks, "One of your reasons to be sad?"

Ana turns her gaze to him and offers a weak smile to reassure him before asking, "I presume you know why Ann needs a wheelchair?"

Carefully appraising her expression, Christian says, "Yes, baby. I checked; there's nothing to be done. We won't see her after this trip. That's one of the reasons she was so keen to help with this weekend."

Lifting her shoulders, as if physically shrugging of her mood, Ana smiles and says, "She insists that, as we're on this planet for such a short time, we should have fun whenever possible."

Christian means every word when he says, "I knew I liked that woman. Can I do anything?"

As usual, their hands are joined, so Ana offers an affectionate pressure as she says, "You're already doing it, thank you. I can't believe we got here only yesterday. I already feel so much more relaxed, as if I must have imagined all the drama."

His eyes shining with joy, Christian lifts her hand to his lips for a second. "Good." Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he holds out her gloves and asks, "Ready to proceed, Mrs. Grey?"

Catching on, a smiling Ana dons her gloves and nods to Nigel hovering nearby as she quietly asks, "Does he know not to look for us if we suddenly disappear?"

Standing, even as he helps her to do so, Christian offers her that carefree grin she loves so much and says, "Trust me."

It's not long before Ana realizes that Christian is making a game of their escape from the crowd. Several times, she notices that they're temporarily alone on the path, so looks expectantly up at him. But he only grins and shakes his head. She's enthusiastic enough to almost consider sex without him when he – of course waiting until she's distracted by the beauty of the sound and light extravaganza – seductively whispers in her ear, "Playtime."

With a moan, as everything south of her belly seems to clench and melt at the same time, Ana is whisked off the path and into the forest. The headlamps mean they can sort of see where they're going. Still, Christian proceeds with caution, leading Ana through the undergrowth. Finally satisfied with their location, he pushes her back against a tree, trapping her body with his. With a grin, he turns off first her headlamp and then his, leaving only the residual light from the trail they've left behind. And then he's kissing her. Already giddy with desire, Ana's heightened senses take in everything: the heat of his lips, the delicious taste of chocolate still in his mouth, and the insistent rigidity of his probing tongue; an appetizer for what's to come. When he draws back from her enough to permit conversation, she begs, "Please, Christian, I need you inside me."

Christian chuckles and says, "Not quite yet, baby. Let me know if you're getting cold, okay?"

There's no point arguing with him when he's intent on giving her pleasure. So, as her always generous husband drops to his knees on the forest floor, Ana merely groans, "Okay."

The shock, as the bitingly cold air hits her exposed groin, is a singular experience, but it's quickly forgotten when Christian greedily puts his warm mouth to her; licking, sucking and nipping at her with an expertise born of practice and a desire to please her. So that, only seconds later, Ana feels the muscles tightening within, signaling the start of her orgasm. Not hopeful that he'll comply, she can't hold back a piteous, "Christian, please."

Amazingly, he hears her. In the soft light, she sees his face, lifted towards her; his eyes almost black with lust and the evidence of her readiness glistening on his upturned lips, before he casually wipes it away with his hand. _Why the hell is that so freaking hot?_

Standing, amusement evident in his voice, Christian says, "You win, baby. Turn around and hold on to the tree; find something to bite down on if you don't want to scare the kiddies."

Grateful that he's compliant, Ana giggles for pure joy and proposes, "The howling banshee of Thetford forest?"

Surprised to hear a condom wrapper opening behind her, Ana laughs again when Christian then growls "Fuck, it's cold," before suggesting "The screaming beast with two backs," then fulfilling the promise his tongue made only minutes ago. Finally with Christian exactly where she wants him, Ana sighs her pleasure just as he then says, "Better; much warmer. This is gonna be quick, baby, or I really will freeze my balls off."

Moments away from climaxing at the exquisite fullness within her, Ana gasps, "Please."

It's all the permission he needs and the only sounds then heard could be any animal in any forest, as Christian fucks his wife under the night sky. Lost in ecstasy, it takes Ana a few seconds to realize that the falling droplets are in fact snowflakes. They're a soundless, ephemeral herald of winter; floating down from the heavens and melting on contact with any surface, as if too precious for this world. Christian stills for a moment and, his voice hushed with awe, says, "Well, that's a first."

Ana laughs, too happy for words, then silently encourages him with gentle movements of her hips. Once again lost in her, Christian quickly guides them both to the finish, Ana biting down on the quilted collar of her coat to stifle her scream as pleasure explodes within her, just before Christian grunts and holds himself still for a moment, then thrusts into her a few more times with renewed desperation. Collapsing across her back, his outstretched hands grasping the tree trunk to support his weight, he exclaims, "Fuck, I love fucking you!"

Reaching back to caress his face, though she sadly can't feel it through the glove, Ana laughs, "My husband; the romantic."

Christian withdraws from her, first helping Ana to cover up before taking care of his own state of undress, as he says, "We didn't quite get to do it by moonlight, but I enjoyed it."

Still marveling at the light snowfall, Ana says, "Me, too. Oh, why the condom?"

With that slightly mocking grin; the one that means she should have guessed, he says, "No towel, baby, and the nearest bathroom is a decent walk. I thought you'd be more comfortable this way."

He's right; she should have guessed that it would be for her benefit. So she smiles and says, "I love you."

His eyes blaze with renewed passion for a second, but then he offers her his hand and says, "Come on. Romantic as this was, I risk frostbite of a vital part of my anatomy if we try for round two."

Laughing yet again, Ana says, "Well, I wouldn't want that; I'm quite fond of that particular part of your anatomy."

Appropriately smug, Christian switches on their headlamps as he says, "I've noticed."

They manage to rejoin the path unseen – except, of course, for a quietly smiling Nigel – by which time the snow has already stopped, leaving only dampness on the ground. On entering a large clearing, surrounded by tall beech trees currently illuminated by constantly changing colored spotlights, they're greeted by a loud, "Hey, hey! What have you two been up to?" Then looking to the rest of his group, mostly young men like himself, he adds "Guess they got lost," to appreciative laughter.

Identifying who's speaking, Ana whispers to Christian "Cousin Darryl," even as she taps his hand twice, in an effort to forestall any unpleasantness.

Christian returns the gesture, proving that he's in control, smiles and says, "No, we knew exactly where we were, Darryl." Then looking only at Ana, he continues, "As for what we were doing, that would be none of your business."

It's exactly the right thing to say, because it's met with more laughter and they all spend some time at the interactive display; choosing what color to "paint" the trees. When it's Ana's turn, she steps up to the controls and smilingly asks Christian, "What's your favorite color?"

He returns her smile and says, "I'll give you a clue; before meeting you I didn't have one."

Somehow certain that she's guessed correctly, Ana can't help the proud blush to her cheeks as she lowers her gaze and presses the buttons that will turn all the beech trees blue, like her eyes, before shyly looking to Christian for his approval.

Christian tenderly kisses her and says, "Good guess, baby."

It's the last exhibit, and everyone meets back at the High Lodge for another hot drink, followed by tearful goodbyes. Having saved the most difficult farewell for last, it honestly doesn't feel like a choice when Ana drops to her knees by Ann Lambert's wheelchair and rests her head in the matriarch's lap as she says, "I'm so glad I met you."

Gently stroking Ana's hair, Ann tearfully says, "And I'm thrilled to have met you, child. I never thought that I'd be lucky enough to actually see little Frankie's baby girl with my own eyes." Looking to Jerry, ever vigilant beside her, Ann then asks, "My purse?" When it's in her hands, she fetches a faded photo and says to Ana, "I'd like you to have this, please. It's no use to me where I'm going."

Ana is then holding a photo she's seen before; her father holding her as a baby. "He sent you this?"

"My brother did. I told you why he and your grandmother left. But we remained good friends even after Francis was born, so they kept in touch as he grew. I have others. I'll send them all to your mother when I've finished my memoirs."

Ana finds the courage to ask, "I'll know then, won't I?"

"Yes, dear."

Determined not to cry any more tears, Ana stands to embrace her, but Ann stops her. "No, please, I want to say goodbye on my feet."

When Jerry moves to assist, Ana says, "It's okay. I'm stronger than I look."

Smiling kindly at her he stops and says, "Evidently."

Grateful that months of working out with Christian has strengthened her formerly slack muscles, Ana easily supports Ann as they embrace. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Anastasia."

Christian tolerates an embrace from Ann before guiding her into the wheelchair, looking embarrassed at something she says. As they head to the car, Ana asks, "What did she say?"

Smiling down at her, he reveals, "That she's glad you've found someone who appreciates how wonderful you are."

"Oh. Why did you look so uncomfortable about that?"

With a shrug, Christian explains, "I'm not sure I do. You deserve so much more than I can give you."

Her eyes burning, Ana begs, "Darling, please; I've cried enough this evening."

Ducking his head in apology, Christian helps her into the car, then buckles up and instructs Nigel, "Take twenty minutes to get back to the inn, and give us some privacy."

"Yes, sir."

With the car underway, and music playing only in the front seat, Christian says, "You strong enough to discuss your other reasons to be sad?"

Ana considers for a moment, then nods and says, "I thought my Dad was about twenty-four when he died, but he was only twenty."

At first confused, Christian then asks, "A reason to be sad, because you've already outlived him?"

"Yeah, it seems…his life was just starting. It feels so wrong that my adult life is just beginning and I'm already older than he was at the end of his."

"It _is_ wrong, sweetheart. That's not how it's supposed to happen." When this doesn't seem to ease her mood, he adds, "But that God of yours says that he still exists in some form?"

A wary, "Yes."

"Then he hasn't really ended. He's still with you."

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You need a reminder. Where's his grave?"

"He doesn't have one. Mom got permission to scatter his ashes on the base where he was killed. She says that being a soldier was…the only thing he was more proud of was me."

Despite her resolution to discuss this without weeping, she then needs his comfort for a while. When she's calmed down, Christian says, "We can do that; go to the base. Is once a year often enough?"

Moisture again filling her eyes at his generosity, Ana asks, "Can Mom come with us?"

"Of course, baby."

"Thank you."

They sit quietly for a while, embracing as best they can over the armrest, then Christian gently prompts, "There's more?"

"Yes. My grandfather was disowned for marrying my grandmother. That's how they ended up in the US with no family." When Christian only patiently waits for more, Ana continues, "They were of very differing social classes; Grandpa was born rich. Plus, they were both teenagers and she was already pregnant with my father. But it was more…his family was…_is_, staunchly Catholic and she was not prepared to convert."

When she doesn't continue, Christian says, "Grace and Carrick have a similar problem, in that she's religious and he's an atheist."

Buoyed by his relaxed tone, Ana eagerly asks, "What did they do?"

"Mom had us all baptized when we joined the family, but we've never been forced to go to church. When we were old enough to understand, they both explained their differing views, without prejudice, and we got to choose."

"How did that work out?"

"Mia still accompanies Grace on Sunday mornings; Christmas and Easter, too. Elliot went for several years…though, I suspect, mainly to meet girls. And I stayed home for quiet time with Carrick; some of my fondest memories, by the way. We'd go fishing, golfing, hiking. On rainy days, he'd pretend to read the paper while I played piano." With a grin, he adds, "I was even less keen on an audience back then."

Her face lit with hope, Ana asks, "Can we do that?"

"Of course, baby. I'm sorry. You're not devout, so it didn't occur to me that you might be worried about this. What did you think I'd do?"

Ana sheepishly confesses, "I was afraid that you'd get stubborn and not let me baptize our son, and there's…I have a favor to ask of you."

His expression suddenly grim, Christian says, "I'm not becoming a churchgoer now, Ana. Not even for you; not unless you truly need it."

"No, it's…I checked; one of the godparents can be an outsider. You would only have to attend for the ceremony. I just really like the idea of…it's silly. I'm sorry."

"Just tell me, Ana. Nothing you want is silly, if it's a true desire."

Taking a deep breath, Ana says, "I know that you're going to be a wonderful father; that no child could be safer than in your care. So I really like the idea of you sort of being responsible for their soul, too."

"Even though I don't believe they have one?"

"Even so."

"I wouldn't have to start attending service?"

"No."

"And you won't ever drag our kid along?"

Ana laughs at the idea of a copper-haired boy being literally dragged, kicking and screaming, over the threshold of a church, and says, "No."

"Okay, Anastasia, I'll be godparent for our son. Who's the insider?"

"Oh, God, I hadn't considered that. I'll have to check if both Grace and Carla can do it, or there'll be a war."

Christian chuckles and says, "Good point." Then kissing her, he asks, "Anything else bothering you?"

"No, thank you. Oh, but I thought you handled that incident with Darryl very well. I'm surprised you're already okay with people knowing when we…you know."

Following her glance for a moment, to their driver, Christian smirks and says, "Baby, he's not listening, and he already knows, remember?" When she only blushes, he adds, "Oh, I love you, Anastasia. My turn?"

"Uh, okay."

Smiling, he says, "Relax, baby; still no complaints. I've been thinking about the Discipline; I meant it when I said you hardly put a foot wrong nowadays. You're almost always on time, unless you have an excellent reason for being late. And you remember to call, so I won't get anxious. Now that you remember to pick up after yourself, Gail's job is a lot easier. Our entire team comment on how cooperative you are; insisting that they've never had it so good. Despite the fact that we still sometimes disagree, I feel as if you respect my opinion. And I really like that you're confident enough to occasionally tease me." Suddenly nervous, he concludes, "I don't want to mess with that. But I do agree that you still need…_we_ still need, me in control, so I'm content to do that for us. But I want to get it right this time."

"We didn't before?"

"No, baby. I was using my old life as a guideline and, as I've said before, what I had then barely compares with the level of sharing we have. But I didn't know anything else at the time. I want to proceed as more of a team, while keeping punishments and play completely separate…perhaps except for the maintenance spankings, as they're more to ensure you don't suffer physical damage and, as you've discovered, they're efficient stress relief, for both of us."

Digesting all this information for a while, Ana eventually asks, "You mean separate like when you've punished me in the past, but then we don't have sex after you've comforted me?"

"Yes."

"You're scared?"

"Yes, I…the stand-alone punishments are harder on me, because…well, fuck, imagine having to punish me and then leave me alone with my pain?"

It takes a little while to imagine how she could possibly punish Christian, but then she remembers his haggard appearance when he'd turned up on her doorstep that June morning, on his knees, and she knows that leaving him alone is the worst thing she could ever do. "Yeah, I wouldn't like that." Suddenly smiling, Ana says, "I've got an idea."

"Please."

"At work…actually, even while I was studying, I'd make a list of things-to-do." With a rueful grin, Ana confesses, "I don't always achieve it. Sometimes it's impossible, but mostly I let myself get distracted by one thing or another and procrastinate about the less appealing chores on my list."

Finally looking optimistic, Christian says, "I love it. How often would I check that you're following the list?"

"Uh…daily? That will really give me the push I need to get things done. You'll match the punishment with the crime?"

"Of course. And we'll have to be flexible as your pregnancy progresses." They're quiet for a while, and then Christian says, "I think this could work. We have enough trust now to make sure that neither of us suffers too much during the process." Then managing an almost stern expression, he concludes, "Oh, but you'll still need to show me the proper respect, wife."

Somehow more confident than ever, knowing that she'll once again be subject to Christian's twitching palm, Ana's glare is even less convincing when she says, "So long as you extend me the same courtesy, husband."

Lifting her hand to his lips, for a lingering but gentle kiss, Christian then promises, "Yes, ma'am."


	34. Chapter 34

Where credit's due: AriadneInNaxos, for ongoing travel guidance, including suggesting Buxton. And my darling husband, for coming up with "Malaysian situation", as something that might occupy an entrepreneur's mind. I know, I normally put this at the end, but I didn't want to kill the mood.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-four

Having managed to convince Christian that hovering while Bree performs her daily assessment of Ana's health wasn't helping – particularly with the blood pressure reading – the two women are alone the next morning during the exam when Bree says, "Hmm."

Ana's heart is beating a little faster as she asks, "Hmm?"

"Oh, sorry. You're retaining a little water is all." Gesturing to the small fortune in platinum and diamonds on Ana's left hand, she says, "Better remove those while you can. Though it's probably temporary; a reaction to your diet yesterday. Are you planning to eat like that for the duration?"

Ana laughs and says, "No. I've never eaten like that before. It was oatmeal and fresh fruit this morning. I think yesterday was about Christian wanting to make sure that I feel like I'm on vacation." Eventually noticing that she's nervously biting her bottom lip, Ana voices her concern, "Do we have to tell him about this? He tends to worry, and might overreact."

"It's entirely up to you, Mrs. Grey…sorry; Ana. He's bound to notice if you remove your rings, though. Would you like me to fetch him and we can tell him together? So long as you drink plenty of water, watch your diet and get at least thirty minutes of light exercise every day, it shouldn't prove problematic."

"Yes, please. He knows you're good at your job, or you wouldn't be here. So I think he'll listen to you."

Christian is predictably concerned at the news, but takes it well; merely asking what needs to be done. When Bree is gone, he kneels in front of Ana, where she's sitting on the edge of the bed, and says, "I'm sorry, baby."

He seems genuinely remorseful, so Ana resists the urge to laugh at the notion that he could possibly be to blame. "Hardly your fault if I have slightly swollen ankles, darling."

Running an exasperated hand through his hair, he says, "But it is. I got so carried away with showing you a good time, that I actually forgot about what's important. Fuck, I didn't even monitor how much you had to eat and drink yesterday."

Capturing his hands in hers, Ana insists, "Hey, my mental health is just as important as my physical health. And I told you; it worked. I feel so much better already. You haven't done anything wrong." When he still looks troubled, she uses one of his tricks. "Say it back to me, so I'll know you've heard me."

He smiles a little at that and asserts, "I haven't done anything wrong. But I _will_ pay more attention to your diet from now on."

"Christian, please don't go overboard. I had such a good time yesterday. I really don't enjoy feeling nervous at mealtimes."

Immediately back to distressed, Christian exclaims, "Still? What the fuck, Ana? I haven't nagged about food in months. And, even then, it was exempt from punishments, exactly because it made you nervous."

Willing calm, to counter his growing anxiety, Ana quietly says, "I know you haven't nagged me, and I'm very grateful for that." Trying for levity, she adds, "Our son has taken over that role for you; demanding food at all hours." Again serious, she continues, "But, when we dine together, you still scrutinize every bite I take. And, if I don't finish my meal, I can almost hear you deciding whether or not to try and persuade me to finish. I just want to not have to worry about it."

Pulling his hands from hers; physically and emotionally retreating from her, Christian looks ready to do violence, though Ana knows that it would not be directed at her. Only seconds later, all the fight seems to go out of him. He rests his head on her lap and wraps his arms around her waist as he confesses, "I know you understand that I'm doing my best. But it too often feels like I take one step forward and three steps back."

Instead of rehashing discussions they've had many times before, Ana runs her fingers soothingly through his hair and gently reminds him, "I'm still here, Mr. Grey, and I'm still yours."

Lifting his head, so that she'll see the love in his eyes, Christian passionately agrees, "Yes, you are."

Her heart again beating faster at the intensity of his declaration, Ana asks, "Not that I mind, but I thought we were leaving soon?"

Grabbing her wrists in that iron grip that means all discussion is over, Christian forces her back onto the bed, even as he stretches out beside her and says, "Carla will be running late. We have time."

In fact, when they eventually make their way to the Range Rover, Carla and Bree are already in their seats and Carla teases, "Have trouble getting out of bed, this morning, Christian?"

Ana knows that he's already getting over his intense need for privacy when Christian cheerfully replies, "Not that it's any of your business, Carla, but I often have trouble getting out of bed since meeting your daughter. Now behave yourself, or I'll tell you why."

Ana is then amazed to hear her mom actually giggle – very disturbing – before Carla returns her attention to Bree; apparently, and thankfully, content to remain oblivious of the details of her daughter's sex life.

* * *

Though clear, it's a bitterly cold morning for punting on the River Cam in Cambridge. When Ana, Christian, Carla and Lea are helped into the shallow boat by their experienced punter, it's to see that everyone has a couple of blankets and – heavenly – a hot water bottle. Sitting down and cocooning herself in warmth, Ana compliments Christian, "You really do think of everything, don't you?"

Christian laughs as he sits beside her, silently insisting that she take his hot water bottle, and says, "Love to take the credit, babe. But it's all part of their service."

Their entertaining and effusive pilot/guide, a self-professed "struggling" student, is not only adept at dodging the dangerous first-time punters, but incredibly knowledgeable about the river, bridges, universities and other ancient buildings they see along the way. It's a wonderful, relaxing interlude, with even Carla transfixed by the beauty surrounding her, and taking several photos, including one of Ana snuggled into Christian, a blanket around their shoulders, as they enjoy the tour.

They're met on shore by another guide, who informs them, "You've time for a refreshment break before our walk."

Relieved that she'll have time to visit the bathroom, with her compressed bladder now demanding attention several times a day, Ana soon returns with Lea to see that Christian has not only bought a hot drink for her, but a snack as well, and he grins, asking, "Want me to look away while you eat?"

Surprised that he'd mention their food issues in public, Ana quickly realizes that his comment doesn't actually give much away. She guesses that her intentions must somehow be apparent, because Christian is silently daring her with one eyebrow raised. Her heart hammering against her ribs at her own audacity, she darts her tongue out at him.

Christian's eyebrows shoot up for a second in surprise, though he doesn't appear to react in any other way. But she knows him well; the vein throbbing a little too hard at the base of his throat, the flaring of his nostrils as he struggles to control his suddenly rapid breathing, and the darkening of his eyes as her defiance turns him on. Confident that he could now tolerate her raising the stakes in their perpetual game of playful seduction, Ana is nevertheless surprised and relieved when, seconds later, he smiles and kisses her cheek, sending her senses into turmoil when he practically purrs, "Bad girl."

She knows that his gray Crombie wool and cashmere coat is concealing a burgeoning erection when he hisses in surprise at her whispered reply, "Only for you, Sir."

They're both grinning like kids, and it feels like their relationship has achieved a new closeness, when they join Carla for the impromptu morning tea. Later, while Christian is disposing thoughtfully of all their trash, Carla comments, "That was a little intense."

Not sure where this is going, Ana hedges, "What do you mean?"

"His reaction when you poked out your tongue. I swear it got warmer for a few seconds."

Shocked to again be alluding to sex in a conversation with her mother, Ana manages a small laugh and reveals, "Yeah. He, uh, likes it when I'm cheeky."

With Christian returning, Carla raises her voice enough so that he'll hear her comment "Then I'd say you've married the right man," before heading over to chat with their guide for the upcoming walking tour.

Christian raises one eyebrow in question to Ana. Mindful of the fact that, until recently, he was a very private person, she nervously explains, "Mom, uh, noticed your reaction to my teasing. She thinks it's just as well that you like it."

One arm around Ana's shoulders in reassurance, Christian looks to his mother-in-law and raises his voice to declare, "Carla, your daughter would test the patience of a saint."

Carla laughs and agrees, "True enough."

Then looking only at Ana, he continues, "And I'm never likely to be a candidate for canonization."

Laughter in her voice, Carla asks, "You kids need some more alone time?"

Escorting Ana over, and offering Carla his free arm, which she readily accepts, Christian nods an instruction to their guide and cheerfully replies, "Thanks. I'll let you know."

The walking tour ends just as Ana's stomach is beginning to demand lunch. They enjoy a leisurely meal at a charming café alongside the river, discussing the highlights of their morning.

Eventually, all six of them are back in the Range Rover, heading north. Carla is sharing her many photos of Cambridge with Bree. Christian is tapping away at his laptop, using the downtime for work. When Ana nudges his elbow, he glances over to see that she's resting a hand over their son. Smiling, he reaches out to feel the movements; something that still fills him with awe, and comments, "He doesn't like to let you relax, does he?"

"Just like his father."

His grin confirming that he knows the answer, Christian asks, "You'd prefer I left you alone more often?"

Fighting the urge to giggle at his playfulness, Ana vigorously shakes her head as she admits, "No."

Leaning over to kiss her, Christian then says, "That's what I thought." Reluctantly returning his attention to the screen in front of him, he adds, "Unfortunately, you and Junior will have to entertain yourselves for a little while longer, then you'll again have my undivided attention."

Still with laughter in her voice, Ana asks, "We're calling him Junior, now?"

"Well, we can hardly keep calling him Blip." Holding up one palm and indicating the distance on his wrist with the other hand, Christian proudly points out, "He's now about this big."

Still attached to the name she gave their son when he was only an embryo, Ana is too happy at Christian's obvious love for their child to be concerned, and says, "Perhaps we can agree to disagree on this one." Nodding to his computer, she adds, "Now get back to ensuring his future."

Christian's eyes flare with passion at her domineering tone, but he only smiles and says "Yes, ma'am," before doing as instructed.

After one of their thankfully planned toilet breaks, Ana returns from the restrooms to see Christian looking worried and deep in conversation with Nigel. On seeing her, Christian makes a visible effort towards nonchalance and reveals, "Blizzard forecast for Wednesday evening; might have to cancel part of our trip."

"Which part?"

With a grimace, Christian reveals, "Overnight stay in Cockermouth."

With only serious expressions facing her, Ana ignores her inner child's urge to giggle at the name and asks, "What's at Cockermouth?"

"It's the birthplace of William Wordsworth; a pretty town, and the route there is beautiful, but could well be snowed in by the time we need to leave on Thursday, which would seriously mess with the rest of my plans." With a shrug, Christian adds, "I put the northern part of the country at the start of our trip, in hopes of avoiding this, but the weather isn't cooperating."

Surprised that it actually works, Ana stares at their minders until they give them some privacy, with only a nod in reply to her silent command. Then stepping into Christian's welcoming embrace, she asks, "What do you think I need to make this trip a success?"

"Uh…well, I'm hoping you'll say settings from some of your favorite books? That's kind of why we're here."

Smiling, Ana asserts, "_You_, darling; I need you."

She can see that he's heard her, because the furrows leave his brow and his smile is shy as he asks, "Just me?"

Beaming, Ana confirms, "Uh, huh."

Christian's smile widens before he kisses her well enough to make her dizzy, then whispers, "Don't worry; I won't tell Carla."

The next town they enter carries the signposted "warning" that they are now entering Robin Hood country, so Ana asks Christian, "This stop is for you?"

He inclines his head and replies, "As per your request. Okay?"

Thrilled that he was selfish enough to think of it, Ana says, "Yes, thank you. So this story is one of your favorites?"

"Absolutely. Plus, it'll kill Elliot that I've been here and he hasn't."

Floating on happiness, Ana says, "Well, that's good enough reason right there."

They spend a lovely couple of hours almost, but not quite, recapturing the magic of Christian's first encounter with the legend of Robin Hood, including some incredibly cheesy photos of him in various heroic poses. Of course, it turns out to be fun for Ana, too; just seeing this playful side of her workaholic husband, which is still too rare. Back in the car, Ana pleads, "We're not doing too much more walking today, are we?"

Patting his lap, to indicate that he'll massage her feet, Christian laughs, "No, sweetheart." Then raising his voice just a little, he continues, "Though Buxton is a market town, so Carla might find her second wind when we get there."

Carla has heard and asks, "Market town?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm assured, some of the best shopping in the country." When Carla returns her attention to Bree, Christian whispers to Ana, "That should ensure us a quiet evening."

The interior climate adjusted for comfort, her luxury leather chair reclined and her aching feet receiving expert relief from Christian's warm hands, Ana has no hope of staying awake.

She's woken by his gentle caress on her cheek and the soft call of her name. When her eyes blink open to see his smiling face, he explains, "We're entering the Peak District, baby. You don't want to miss this."

Several references to The Peaks, from some of her favorite novels, running through her head, Ana says "Oh, thank you," and sits up, reaching for her camera as she does so.

"Nigel will stop where he considers it the perfect spot for a panorama picture, and just give him some warning if you want to stop anywhere else for a photo-op."

Still sleepy, Ana doesn't quite have the strength to withstand his kindness and blushes, lowering her gaze as she mutters, "You're too good to me."

Lifting her face to his with a firm hand under her chin, Christian growls, "Cut that shit out."

"Annie?"

Concerned at the unease in Carla's voice, even as she worries about the sudden tension evident in Christian at being overheard, Ana is about to reassure her mother when Christian stops her with a gesture and says, "My apologies, Carla, for losing my temper. I have few complaints about Anastasia. But one of the things that causes me genuine distress is that she doesn't feel worthy of anything I give her. Perhaps you can explain it to me?"

Carla seems to relax at his words and, with obvious regret, says, "I don't suppose she's used to being spoiled. For various reasons, I was never in a position to give her everything she deserves, and…and I didn't even notice when she stopped asking."

All that's necessary is for Ana to turn her wide-eyed, silent plea towards Christian and he succinctly commands, "Stop the car."

A few minutes later – they had to wait that long because Christian insisted everyone dress against the cold – Ana and her mother are embracing a short distance from the car, with Carla tearfully apologizing for years of neglect, while her daughter just as tearfully tries to mollify her.

Standing far enough away to give them some privacy, his hooded stare on both of them, Christian doesn't at first hear what Bree exits the car to ask him. "What?"

Stamping her feet against the bitter cold, Bree says, "I asked if you can leave her alone for a couple of hours."

Too upset by Ana's obvious distress to bother with politeness, Christian snaps, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"They need some time together, without your influence. I suggest some retail therapy in Buxton; just until dinner."

"You're a shrink, now?"

"No. But I've worked with all kinds of people, who've had all kinds of problems." Reaching out to almost touch Christian's shoulder, his body betraying him with the slightest of tension, Bree continues, "Everyone has symptoms; some more evident than others. Your wife's inability to accept your generosity is one. Just doin' what you're doing will cure her of that, eventually. But my decades of experience tell me that it will happen quicker with Carla's help. She wants the best for her too, you know?"

Still reluctant to trust anyone except Ana, Christian quietly concedes, "Yeah, I guess so; doesn't mean she can achieve it, though. Ana's been let down in the past."

"Still, Carla deserves this chance to makes things right. I'm guessing that's part of why you invited her along."

Finally relaxed about the woman's interference, Christian smiles a little and says, "You really _do_ know people. Okay; retail therapy it is, if Ana's not too tired." His smile widens and he adds, "I suppose you'll expect an impressive bonus for the counseling session?"

Bree smiles and says, "It would have to be good. Last bonus I was offered was a marriage proposal."

Christian chuckles at that and says, "I take it you politely declined?"

The only answer is a wistful, "No."

Christian knows, from her file, that the career woman has never married. Surprised, he begins "But…," before realizing that he's prying.

With a sad smile, Bree reveals, "He was already dying when I accepted. We didn't have time for the actual ceremony."

Christian also knows people, and comments, "You meant it; you wanted to marry him." At her nod, he smiles, hoping she'll know it's a compliment when he then says, "You can't tell shit by looking at a woman, can you?"

Retreating to the shelter of the car, Bree breathes a laugh and says, "No, sir."

When Ana and Carla finally head towards him, arm-in-arm and smiling, Christian opens the doors for them as he says, "I've been thinking, baby; how about you two gals hit the retail outlets without me? That way I can get some real work done, and you can buy me a Christmas gift."

"I got you something in Southwold, though I'm not sure it's enough."

"Oh?"

Using his own words against him, Ana says, "Not a secret; a surprise. I had it shipped back home with a bunch of other stuff." At his expression, she admonishes, "And no checking bank records to try and guess. You'll ruin the surprise."

Caught out, Christian laughs and says, "Fair enough." Climbing into his seat when the women are secure, he asks, "So, what do you think? Are your feet up for just a little more walking?"

With a glance at Carla, receiving an enthusiastic nod in reply, Ana says, "That'd be lovely, thank you. I still have lots of gift-shopping to do and we definitely won't have time when we get back. Will we meet you somewhere for dinner?"

"We're staying and dining at the Old Hall Hotel, so you can take both Lea and Nigel with you, because I won't be leaving our room."

After checking in and freshening up in their sumptuous suite – complete with four-poster bed – Ana is standing within Christian's embrace, soaking up the heat from the pre-lit fire in the ornate fireplace, when she asks, "You'll be okay?"

"Fuck, Ana, it's only for a couple of hours. We've been apart for days, before now."

Reaching up to smooth the lines from his forehead, she says, "I know. But any time away from you seems bad when we've been together all day."

Relaxing, Christian confesses, "I'm glad it's not just me. Buxton's biggest crime problem is anti-social behavior, which I'm guessing translates as rowdy tourists, so I'm going to get stuck into work and not worry about you, okay?"

"Okay. Wait; you checked the crime stats for this evening's shopping spree?"

"Not exactly. I checked the crime stats for every town on our itinerary."

Almost shocked at this level of care, even as she realizes that it shouldn't surprise her, Ana then caresses the side of his face as she shakes her head in wonder and asks, "How do you have the time to be _that_ obsessive?"

Recognizing it as a compliment, Christian smiles and says, "Well, I had help. Plus, I don't waste all my time on sleeping, like you do."

She's preparing for an attack on his sensitive ribs when a knock on the door announces her escort, and she tells Lea, "One minute." Then wrapping her arms around her husband, Ana lies, "I won't miss you; not one little bit."

Christian grins and counters, "Who are you, again?"

They're still kissing when Lea's second knock finally gets Ana's feet moving towards the door.

* * *

Amazingly, Christian is able to focus on work, even knowing that Ana is roaming strange streets without him. He's still pondering the Malaysian situation when a slight noise at the door heralds her return. With a quiet smile at his own cleverness, he doesn't even look up; ostensibly focusing even harder on the screen before him. He hears her hesitate at the door, her whispered "Thanks," presumably to Lea, a crinkling sound that he guesses are purchases being placed on the floor, then her tiny footsteps as she "sneaks" towards him. Only when her hands are reaching to cover his eyes does he spring into action, whirling and dragging her, squealing, onto his lap.

"Christian! You bastard! You knew I was there the whole time!"

Thrilled that it went so well, he can't stop the grin that seems to spread over his entire face. "How could I not, with you stomping across the room like that?"

It they weren't tangled in each other, Christian is certain that she'd angrily cross her arms as she pouts, "I do _not_ stomp."

He wonders if it's really a choice when he warmly avows, "God, I love you."

Something about his declaration, perhaps everything, immediately appeases Ana and she's gazing at him with such love that it actually hurts his chest. Standing with her in his arms, the weight of her and their son still an easy burden to bear, he heads towards the bed, but is stopped by her, "Uh, darling; dinner? I came back because Blip is hungry."

Not genuinely concerned what they call him at this stage, Christian corrects her, "Junior."

"Either way, he and I are hungry."

Her welfare, and that of their son, is one of the few things guaranteed to override his sex drive. Still, he's surprised how much it still hurts being rejected by her when he places Ana gently on her feet and complains, "I'd heard that kids kill your sex life. No one told me it starts before they're born."

Laughter in her voice, Ana protests, "Oh, no. Please don't pout."

"Well, fuck, Ana; we've only fucked twice a day since we got here."

Trying to appease him with her palms on his chest; a gesture that somehow thrills and comforts him at the same time, Ana says, "I know, darling. But it's only for…what; ten more days? We've gone longer than that without sex completely." Whatever thought she then has makes her a little nervous, and she continues, "Uh, maybe, if we're going to have some time apart like this, you could masturbate? I won't mind. I know that you'll still want me afterwards."

It's the subject that he has discussed only with Flynn and, despite ultimately trusting Ana to go easy on him, he still can't manage more than a mumbled, "I can't."

He can see that she's utterly confused, even before she asks, "What? What do you mean?"

Shrugging out of her embrace, he curses the blush he can feel burning his ears as he says, "I can't! Okay? I tried when we were…the weeks after your surgery. But it was fucking excruciating; took me ages to come, and I didn't particularly enjoy it. Apparently, it's no longer fun unless I at least have your voice in my ear."

He knows that Ana has understood when she's clearly fighting the urge to laugh; exactly why he'd been reluctant to share this with her. "This wasn't a problem before we met?"

Wishing there was some way to back out of this conversation, Christian pouts, "Of course not. I could fuck, then wank, then fuck again for hours on end." Finally, there it is, the ability to laugh at himself, and he can feel the smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he spreads his arms wide and declares, "You've ruined me."

The seductive warmth of her reply seems to go straight to his dick when she says, "I still prefer to believe that I've restored you." Then glancing at the four poster bed, Ana asks, "Did you check it out?"

Marveling that she already knows him so well, Christian smiles and says, "Maybe. It appears quite solid." His suddenly hot blood pulsing faster round his body, he fervently prays, "Please, God, let us be considering the same thing."

Again resting her hands on his chest, Ana smiles and says, "Well, it will mean an embarrassing conversation with Bree in the morning; explaining the ligature marks on my wrists and ankles. But, if you're okay with that, then so am I."

His dick rock hard at the image of Ana standing, spread-eagled and tied to two of the ornate bedposts, her beautiful face stretched in ecstasy, with only golden firelight illuminating the sheen of sweat on her naked body, Christian can't help the frustrated groan – more of a whimper – that escapes his lips before he gulps, "I'm okay with that."


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-five

The next morning, when Christian admits Bree into the suite, she then steps aside, so that he can leave. Instead, he turns to Ana and asks, "You sure, baby?"

With a nervous smile, Ana assures him, "It's fine. I promise."

Clearly reluctant, Christian nevertheless nods and leaves. Bree puts her bag down and asks, "Something wrong, Ana?"

"Not exactly." Hesitating only a moment, Ana explains, "I, uh, have some red marks on my wrists and ankles. I wanted to tell you before we proceed, because you're bound to notice, and I need you to understand that…what caused them was entirely consensual."

Bree's eyebrows express her surprise, but she only asks, "Marks elsewhere, too?"

Blushing, Ana confesses, "Uh, well, my…do I have to go into detail?"

Her solicitous nurse smiles and says, "No, I guess not. Did you experience any of the symptoms of high blood pressure that I told you to watch out for?"

"Uh, no. I felt a little dizzy at one point." Finally relaxing a little, Ana smiles and says, "But that's not unusual, under the circumstances."

"And…I'm sorry, Ana, but this one is necessary; did any of the marks break the skin?"

Her face again suffused with acutely-uncomfortable red, Ana reveals, "No. He's extremely careful about that."

"I'm glad to hear it. Any other concerns?"

Surprised that the matter is already apparently concluded, Ana says, "Uh, no. That's it. I feel fine."

Her eyes sparkling with humor, Bree asks, "Just 'fine'?"

Ana giggles and says, "Okay; wonderful. Thank you, for making this easy for me."

"No problem, dear. Thank you, for trusting me; the more information I have, the better I can care for you. As you were nervous about telling me, we'll do the exercises first, and check your vitals when you're relaxed."

Satisfied that Ana and the baby are well, Bree says goodbye for now, to find Christian leaning on the wall in the corridor. He stands straight as she shuts the door, asking, "Well?"

Deliberately misunderstanding him, Bree smiles and says, "Yes, they're both well." Checking that they're alone, she quietly continues, "You're aware that intense fear and pain…"

Christian nods and interrupts, "Could raise her blood pressure? Yes, we're careful." Running a hand through his hair, his gaze also darts around them before he reveals, "I've resisted since the surgery, but Ana…well, she's…" With a weak laugh, he concludes, "Hard to resist."

Bree smiles and says, "So it would seem. You'll be late again?"

"Not today." With a grin, Christian jokes, "She wore me out."

"All right. I'll see you downstairs."

"Thank you, for understanding."

"Your wife's health is my only concern and, considering how well she seems today, I'd say whatever you two got up to last night did her the power of good." As she passes by Christian on the way to her room, Bree quietly adds, "Also, just as well these walls are thick."

Christian can't quite manage a disapproving tone as he warns, "You know, I'm pretty sure I could find another nurse just as qualified as you."

Bree doesn't even look around to cheerfully reply, "If you say so, sir."

Despite the sad end of their blue-sky days, the weather is still relatively kind to them, though very cold. After a tour of Poole's Cavern; stunning limestone caves, and the short walk to Solomon's Temple; a Victorian folly offering spectacular panoramic views of Buxton and the surrounding landscape – Christian being the one to spot the hedgehog that lingers long enough for a couple of photos before it vanishes into the undergrowth – they're once again in the car and heading northwest when Lea informs Christian, "Five minutes until the turnoff, sir."

Christian leans forward, offering a scarf to Carla, and says, "Your turn for the blindfold, I'm afraid."

Clearly confused, Carla looks to Ana, asking, "What's going on?"

Ana shrugs and says, "No idea, Mom. But it'll be for your benefit."

Still wary, Carla complies as she says, "I hope so."

Ana, of course, sees the signpost that reveals their intended location, Lyme Park, but still doesn't know what's going on. Looking to Christian for the answer, she's cheerfully informed, "If your mother can trust me, I think you can, too."

Still sounding a little uncomfortable, Carla counters, "It's Ana I trust, not you."

Christian merely laughs and says, "Fair enough."

When Nigel parks the car, Christian practically leaps out to open Carla's door, giving constant instructions as he helps her exit and walks her a few, trepidatious steps before saying, "Okay, now you can remove the blindfold."

Carla does so, looks around her at the many tourists, and expansive grounds nearby. Then her eyes alight on the mansion in the background and she gasps, "Pemberley."

Smiling at her reaction, Christian explains, "Yes. Bob told me that _Pride and Prejudice_ is one of your favorites; the book and the mini-series. I'm afraid we can't stay very long, and the interior of the mansion was filmed somewhere else, but I thought…"

He's interrupted by Carla swaying almost into his embrace, before she seems to remember that he won't like it, and clutches at his hands instead. Christian's lingering fear of physical contact, especially when he's not the one who initiates it, means that he can't stop his body from tensing at her heartfelt attempt at grateful affection. But he only hesitates a moment before embracing Carla long enough for her to breathe, "Thank you. I wasn't expecting that."

Beaming, that his gift was so well received, Christian says, "Exactly; not nearly as much fun if you were."

As an almost girlishly excited Carla runs to fetch her camera, Christian warily approaches Ana and asks, "Okay?"

Blinking away the unnecessary tears, Ana lovingly pronounces, "Perfect."

With every possible photo opportunity taken advantage of, they're once again on the move, with Carla unusually quiet as she emails her husband. Christian and Ana are, of course, holding hands. On noticing that she's staring at him, he raises an eyebrow in question. Motioning him closer, she whispers, "I kind of want to fuck you right now."

Christian's sudden outburst of laughter causes a small ripple of interest, but everyone almost immediately returns to what they were doing, and he whispers, "Me being nice to your mother does it for you? And you call me kinky."

Her face shining with love for him, she replies, "You are." When he's done kissing her, still awkward inside the car, Ana asks, "I suppose you're not going to tell me where we'll stop next?"

Leaning back in his seat, Christian reveals, "Actually, I don't know. My next choice is over two hours away, so I asked our driver to pick a secure location halfway, because either your pregnant bladder or stomach – probably both – will be demanding attention by then."

Resisting the urge to apologize for being a nuisance, since he obviously doesn't see it that way, Ana settles for, "Thank you."

After their mystery lunch break, which turns out to be a Beefeater restaurant off the Preston bypass, where Ana eats a steak that would satisfy even her husband, she once again can't keep her eyes open and wakes about thirty minutes later to Christian explaining, "Good timing, baby. We entered the Lake District a little while ago, but you haven't missed much yet."

When they cross a small river, Christian points to the right and says, "Lake Windermere is somewhere that way."

Guessing part of their itinerary, Ana asks, "We're going on a cruise?"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, Christian reveals, "Late tomorrow morning, assuming the weather holds; private charter, so we can go wherever you wish."

This time keeping any feelings of unworthiness to herself, and the ensuing guilt those feeling elicit, Ana returns her attention to the scenery as she says, "Wonderful."

Suddenly, Christian's voice is by her ear and he murmurs, "I know what you're thinking, Mrs. Grey. Just remember; together, okay?"

Amazingly, this is enough to improve her mood, and she kisses him before agreeing, "Together."

They travel for a while through picturesque pasture and woodland, lightly dusted with recent snowfall, along adorable lanes framed by ancient stone walls, past exquisite cottages and inns, with occasional glimpses of Lake Windermere in the distance. When the car slows to make a turn, this time Ana recognizes the signpost, Hill Top, and excitedly asks, "Beatrix Potter's farm?"

Grinning, Christian confirms, "Uh, huh. After this we'll head into Hawkshead and visit the gallery, too. In the meantime you can see where _Peter Rabbit_ was created and go nuts in the souvenir shop. Oh, but anything they have here is also available online. So don't spend all afternoon buying stuff for Junior; we can do that from home."

Trusting him to understand how grateful she is, Ana grins and counters, "Blip."

Still smiling, Christian argues, "Blips can't eat, baby, not even from a bowl with a rabbit running around the outside."

Yet again too happy for words, Ana is laughing as Christian helps her from the car. After exploring the farmhouse and garden, both looking at if Miss Potter has just stepped out for a moment, they spend too much money on souvenirs, then head into Hawkshead, to learn about this amazing woman's life.

From there it's only a short drive to yet another picture-perfect town; Wordsworth's beloved Grasmere. They spend some time at Dove cottage, formerly his home for a time, now faithfully preserved as a museum and tribute to his life. The light is waning and the weather is closing in by the time they reach Rydal Mount; Wordsworth's last home, where he wrote in the extensive and beautiful gardens (designed by the poet) that he called his "office", until his death in 1850.

Finally arriving at the Cranleigh hotel, after the early sunset – not that they saw it with the sun concealed behind ominous, gray clouds – the foot-sore travelers are gushing over the grand, ultra-modern interior of the (from the outside) unprepossessing but dignified old building, while Christian oversees the details of checking in. Not really listening, Ana overhears him asking for a 6am wakeup call. When he eventually saunters over to her, keycards in hand, she asks, "Early start?"

"If we want to see why so many people, including your Miss Potter, fought to preserve this area; yes." Handing Carla her card, he continues, "Don't worry; Bob told me that hiking the wilderness isn't your thing. I've booked you into their day spa at a more leisurely time; for whatever treatments you can cram in before eleven. All the details are in your suite, and we'll catch up with you before we head to the marina for our cruise. For now, you have about an hour to freshen up before dinner; smart casual will be fine. We're walking, but it's only a hundred yards to the restaurant."

Her slight concern transforming to obvious delight, Carla says, "Thank you, Christian."

When Christian nods to the nearby porter, the young man smiles and says "If you'll follow me, you'll be in the lap of luxury in no time."

On entering their deluxe suite – opulent and tastefully coordinated chocolate and bronze furnishings, subtle and evocative mood lighting, welcoming fire in the modern hearth, mirrors and room dividers creating the illusion of even more space than there already is – Ana is first struck by the delicious scent of roses, and soon sees why; a trail of red petals leads from the door to the opulent king-size bed. More petals festoon the covers, on which rests a welcoming teddy bear, apparently clutching a single, intact rose. The door to the palatial en suite is open, revealing floor to ceiling marble tiles, and several lit candles surround the enormous sunken hot tub; already filled and gently bubbling away. A freestanding brass ice bucket by the bed contains a bottle of (presumably non-alcoholic) sparkling wine. And a plate of strawberries, half-coated in chocolate, rests on a nightstand, along with a couple of champagne flutes. Overwhelmed by this elaborate and extravagant cliché of hedonistic seduction, Ana giggles and says, "You asked for the romance package, didn't you?"

Unashamed, Christian beams at her and says, "Yes, ma'am. Is it working?"

Laughing again, Ana moves into his arms as she warmly declares, "Not necessary, darling. But, yes, it's working. Do we have time?"

Nodding towards the en suite, he says, "We have time to fuck in the bath. Later, I thought we might leisurely make love surrounded by rose petals."

Her body warmed by more than the heat from the fire, Ana's groin muscles clench as if on his command as she says, "Excellent plan, Mr. Grey."

* * *

When Ana and Christian meet up with Carla in the foyer, she exclaims, "Wow! This place is even nicer than your apartment. Did you put me in the best suite they have?"

Smiling, Christian says, "Certainly one of the best. I'm glad you like it. Though I object to your assessment; Escala is definitely better."

Proving that she understands he's playing, Carla laughs and says, "My mistake. So, where are we dining?"

Offering her his free elbow – Ana, of course, has the other – Christian guides them out into the chilly night as he says, "The Porto restaurant. It's affiliated with the hotel, and offers an extensive à la carte menu, eclipsed only by their wine list. Remember, you're drinking for three on this trip."

"I hadn't thought of it that way, but you're right. Ana hardly drinks, though. So I'm not sure it counts."

A twinkle in his eye, Christian looks at Ana as he says, "Oh, that's not always true."

Ana is ineffectively threatening Christian's ticklish ribs through several layers of clothing when Carla asks, "Oh, really? Something you haven't told me, Anastasia?"

Ana laughs and says to Christian, "Remember I told you that, before you, only my Mom called me that, and only when she's upset with me?"

Christian laughs and says, "Yes." To Carla, he vows, "I can assure you, Carla, that Anastasia has never, whilst in my company, consumed enough alcohol to become inebriated."

Clearly untrusting of his carefully worded promise, Carla nevertheless lets the matter drop. After a few seconds, she changes the subject with, "When does Bree eat? I mean, I know she eats; I've seen her. But what happens tonight? When does she have dinner?"

Sounding a little confused, Christian replies, "Whenever she wishes; such expenses are covered under her contract. Why?"

With a nervous glance at their unobtrusive minders, Carla says, "Oh, I'm just not used to this having servants thing. It feels weird not having her with us."

"Would you like me to invite her to join us from now on? She's not actually a servant, so I will not make it an order. But I can tolerate her presence during dinner, if you and Ana would prefer it."

Ana chimes in with, "I'd like that. She's fun." To Carla, she adds, "I know exactly what you mean, Mom. When I met Christian, he wasn't even on a first name basis with Jason and Gail; and they live with us."

Again with that nervous glance at Lea and Nigel, Carla lowers her voice to say, "Yeah. It seems so _Upstairs, Downstairs_." Noticing Christian's frown, she quickly adds, "Oh, not that I'm saying it's wrong…just…weird, like I said."

Christian pauses and asks their bodyguards, "Would you both care to dine with us from now on?"

Obviously confused, Nigel shoots a glance at his sister before replying, "Uh, I thought you're familiar with standard procedures, sir?"

"I am. But I fear that Mrs. Adams feels I'm being somewhat rude by not including you."

With a kind smile at Carla, Nigel explains, "It's all right, ma'am; we'd prefer to dine at another time. I really like my food, so there's no way I can adequately protect you if I'm hungry and someone plonks a decent meal in front of me."

Christian dismisses Nigel with a nod and again guides his women towards the restaurant as he explains, "See? Sometimes it's about efficiency, not snobbery."

"I never said you were a snob…okay, I implied it. I'm sorry."

Clearly not offended, Christian replies, "It's all right, Carla. You weren't completely wrong. Before I met Ana, I actually believed that simply paying above award wages was enough; that I didn't have to also show my employees courtesy. If she hadn't insisted on destroying the barriers between me and those who work for me, I would never have learned how many of them stay with me out of loyalty, not because I pay well." Then looking only at his wife, he concludes, "I'm a better boss, and a better man, because of your daughter."

Beaming her pleasure at both of them, Carla jokes, "Maybe I should eat at another time, too?"

Not even breaking stride to kiss Carla's cheek, Christian then says, "That's all right. Mostly I can tolerate your presence, too."

When Carla then wordlessly removes her arm from his and moves around to take Ana's free arm, Christian is still laughing when they arrive at the restaurant.

* * *

After dinner, Ana and Christian walk Carla to her door and say goodnight before heading, hand in hand, to their suite. On the way, Ana says, "You like her."

Bemused, Christian says, "I told you that, months ago."

"Yes, but you're teasing her a lot now."

"Oh; that. Well, she seems to like it."

Leaning her head on Christian's shoulder as Lea checks the suite, Ana says, "Thank you."

"No problem, baby." Then lowering his voice, Christian adds, "Now, no more talk of your mother once we're through that door, okay?"

Remembering his promise to make love surrounded by rose petals, Ana giggles and says, "Fair enough."

When they're finally alone, the delicate fragrance of rose still in the air, Ana notices a few changes; bed turned down, plush toweling robes on the bed, a chocolate on each pillow, and she presumes that the ice bucket now contains fresh ice, as they didn't touch that bottle before dinner, finding its twin in the en suite when they had sex in the spacious bathtub.

Guessing that Christian won't want to wait…he rarely does, Ana deliberately lowers her gaze, awaiting his instructions on how to proceed. Even as she does so – ostensibly giving up control of even her actions – his sharp intake of breath, as her submission turns him on, fans the flames of her desire with that feeling of power that comes from giving herself completely to this beautiful man…her man, so that she's quivering with need when, after several seconds, Christian approaches and begins wordlessly undressing her.

He removes her coat, beanie and scarf, then walks away. Daring a glance in his direction, Ana sees that he's hanging them up, and risks a smile at his perpetual need for tidiness. He also hangs up his coat, along with his dinner jacket, and kicks off his black brogues, leaving only the white dress shirt, gray tie and black suit pants; the very image of a sexy CEO…albeit a little casual without his shoes. Filing the image away as a reminder, she's once again deferentially staring at the floor when Christian returns to stand before her. Having finally come to accept that his apparent appreciation of her ever-expanding body was not feigned, somewhere along the way, Ana shed her dislike of her new shape and now relishes any opportunity to display her curvaceous figure in the designer maternity wear he'd lovingly supplied.

This evening she's also dressed for warmth; a latte and charcoal merino wool dress by Sabatini, combined with Stella & Minx patterned tights and knee-high Zoe Kratzmann boots. As Christian helps Ana out of the dress, he comments, "Wasn't too sure about this one, but it really suits you." When Ana says nothing, he kisses the top of her lowered head and gently says, "Tonight, I'm Christian."

Much as she enjoys the thrill of playing his dutiful sub in the bedroom, this is still one of Ana's favorite games; being themselves. So she lifts her head, smiles her pleasure, and says, "Hello, Christian. I'm Ana." Remembering the thought she'd had only moments ago, she gestures to his outfit and asks, "Oh, if we're us, could you…would you, consider sometimes wearing this when we play?"

Christian looks surprised, at first, then his gaze darkens and he hisses, "Fuck."

Distressed at having so upset him, Ana blushes and says, "Stupid idea. I'm sorry."

Offering a reassuring pressure on her shoulders, Christian bitterly explains, "Not angry with _you_, baby." Releasing her, he spreads his hands wide in supplication and continues, "All my talk about respect and I forgot one of the basics. You seemed to like the jeans so much that it never even occurred…it was never an issue with my subs, because…fuck, I'm sorry."

Utterly confused, Ana asks, "_You're_ sorry?"

Smiling at her bewilderment, he says, "Yes. Before you, I didn't really care about this shit. But dressing well enough to honor the gift of your submission should have been the first fucking thing I did before taking you into the playroom. I apologize, humbly and sincerely, that you had to ask this of me; I should have known better…I _do_ know better. I just…fuck."

This last delivered with a look of such helpless entreaty that Ana's chest aches with love for him. She smiles and says, "Apology accepted. Not that it was really necessary; I _do_ like the jeans…there's something…raw about you in them. Please don't throw them out just yet?"

Gathering her in his embrace, Christian says, "Okay, baby. Though I don't imagine they'll last forever; not the way we play." Then kissing her and suddenly stepping back, he again spreads his arms wide and asks, "So, just like this? I know that some Doms go for the clichéd 'power' look of black shirt, pants and combat boots." A corner of his mouth lifting in a cheeky grin, he adds, "But I prefer barefoot, so I can sneak up on you."

Ana giggles and says, "I like that, too." Then resting a hand on her chin and saying "Hmm," to give his outfit a proper appraisal, she says, "Yes, I think, just like that. Oh, but can you roll up your sleeves after I've seen you?"

With a salacious grin, Christian asks, "Like I really mean business?"

Her breath catching at the threat/promise contained in those few words, Ana needs a moment to recover the power of speech, then utters, "God, yes."

Christian chuckles at her reaction, then suggests, "Okay, baby. I'll also ditch the tie after I enter, so it doesn't get in the way." Again wrapping her in his arms, he adds, "Thanks, for bringing this up; good timing, too, because we'll have to rethink everything we do after we move into the house."

"I thought you said that we're not going with a playroom; instead keeping Escala for date nights?"

"Yes. But our bedroom will be effectively soundproof and I'm not fucking waiting until we can organize a babysitter every time I want to spank my wife."

Ana smiles at his vehemence, then thinks of something else and asks, "If it's soundproof, how will we hear when someone knocks on the door?"

"Someone like a little boy who wakes up and needs his Mommy in the middle of the night?"

Blushing, that he can read her so easily, yet glad that he seems at ease with the idea, Ana admits, "Yes."

"That bit was easy; any vibration of the door will make a blue light flash several times inside the room. I'll show you when we get back." With a grimace, Christian quickly continues, "The difficult part has been putting up with Elliot's constant ribbing about why we might need a soundproof bedroom."

Amused and appalled at the same time, Ana asks, "Does he suspect? I mean, I know Grace, and presumably by now, Carrick, sort of know what we get up to…"

Christian interrupts, "No. As usual, my brother doesn't know a goddamn thing. He's just a fucking pain in the ass." Then fetching the "Hers" bathrobe, Christian helps Ana into it, saying, "Come on. Let's brush our teeth. By then I should have forgiven myself for not considering a Dom uniform and can get started on making up for it."

Ana knows that there's no point trying to ease Christian's guilt when he feels that he's let her down, so she merely smiles and says, "I'd like that."

As they – now minty fresh – walk back towards the bed, Christian steps behind Ana and deftly unties the sash at her waist before removing her robe. The moves of this "dance" pleasingly familiar to Ana, she doesn't turn; instead waiting the few seconds it takes for Christian to presumably hang up her robe and then return. Sliding his arms around her waist from behind, he affectionately nuzzles her neck as he murmurs, "I like this cat burglar look, but I honestly think that you're wearing too many clothes, Mrs. Grey."

Leaning into his caress, her blood burning with need for him, Ana just as quietly asks, "What do you intend to do about it, Mr. Grey?"

His hands roaming over her curves, prominent under the black, thermal sweater she'd worn beneath her dress, Christian doesn't immediately reply, instead kissing her neck and then her ear until Ana's breathing is erratic. Suddenly, he steps back, saying, "Strip and get into bed."

It doesn't take long. Ana sheds her sweater, tights and underwear in record time. By then, Christian has pulled the covers almost off the bed and removes the teddy bear as he mutters, "Sorry, little guy." Seeing that Ana is ready, he instructs, "Lie down and keep your eyes shut. Think you can manage that?"

"Uh, I guess so, but you know I won't mind if you blindfold me."

Christian shakes his head and says, "No. Tonight I want you naked, in body and soul."

At ease with his atheism, just as he respects her beliefs, Ana gently teases, "Soul?"

Christian rolls his eyes and says, "Fuck, woman; I'm trying to be romantic here. You _know_ what I mean."

Stepping closer, still amazed at how graceful she feels in these moments, Ana takes the liberty of loosening his tie a little as she says, "Yes, darling, I know what you mean. And, for a guy who insisted he didn't have a heart when I met him, you're incredibly romantic." Then taking his hand and placing it over her heart, even as she does the same for him – a gesture they've not needed for a long time, not since they became secure in their love – Ana means every word when she says, "My soul belongs as much to you as it does to God."

Obviously pleased with her vow, Christian's pout transforms into a beatific smile, and then he says, "Not that I'm complaining about being in such exultant company, but isn't there some rule against that sort of thing? Shouldn't your God always come first?"

"I think that's only if I'm a nun."

Christian's eyes widen at the thought and he says, "Don't even joke about that." Then grinning like a little boy, he adds, "Although…did you give any more thought to adding costumes to play? You asked about that one time."

"Oh, no; not a nun costume. I'm pretty sure there _must_ be rules against that."

Christian shrugs and says, "Oh well; worth a try." Suddenly lifting Ana in his arms and placing her on the bed, he adds, "Guess I'll just have to settle for your soul."

Happiness bubbling within her, even as her body still hums with desire, Ana giggles and jokes, "It's yours. Though I claim _your_ soul as payment."

Bending over her, so that his face is only inches from hers, but without touching any part of her body, Christian warmly declares, "Baby, if I have a soul, it's been yours since we met."

* * *

**Author's note:** As usual, place names, business names and brand names are real, unless I tell you different. In case you're wondering after reading this; I'm not religious, but Ana is (mentioned in the books), so I'm writing her like that and will try to show the proper respect anyone deserves for living by a code of beliefs, even ones I don't agree with. On an unrelated topic, I think it's time for a sex scene, but I ran out of week before writing it, sorry...next chapter. Thank you, for reading.


	36. Chapter 36

Author's note: Hitting the slopes soon...hopefully not with my face. So please remain calm if you don't hear from me for a couple of weeks; I'll just be trying to remember how to ski. Thank you, for reading.

Oh, someone very politely asked if I could hurry things along a little. I want you to know that I really did try. But, here we are, almost four thousand words later, and the story has progressed only a couple of hours. Still, I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-six

Naked on the satin sheets, her eyes closed, Ana hears Christian's soft footsteps move around the room. Soon, music fills the air. Smiling, she guesses, "Tchaikovsky?"

"Shostakovich: Romance, from _The Gadfly_. Do you like it?"

Knowing that such questions from Christian are always sincere, Ana listens for a while, then breathes an unsteady sigh, powerful emotions whirling like a tempest within her, and says, "I love it. Thank you."

Now, of course, she cannot hear him moving, so startles a little when he says, from right beside the bed, "Good. Can I trust you to keep your eyes shut?"

Squeezing her eyelids just a little, Ana vows, "Yes…I hope."

Christian chuckles, that wonderful warm sound that is reserved for when he is utterly content, and says, "At least you're honest." His voice is then by her ear, Dominant Christian in his tone, when he suggests, "How about, if you open them before I'm done, I punish you?"

His slight emphasis on the word "punish" confirming that it will be pleasurable, means that Ana gulps and practically begs, "Okay."

Christian stands, laughing as he does so, and says, "I know I've said it before, baby, but you are, by far, my favorite toy. Now relax."

Only then does Ana notice that her entire body is tensed, fists even clenched by her sides in anticipation of what he might do next. "Easy for you to say; you're not the one naked and effectively blind on the bed."

"True enough."

And then there's only seductive music and the evocative scent of roses. Moments later, Ana gasps in surprise as Christian's cool fingertips touch her cheek…only it's not his fingers; something very soft, sensuously so, and cool like…smiling, she says, "The rose."

"Clever girl. Now shut the fuck up and feel, instead of using that wonderful mind of yours."

He takes his time; blazing a trail of almost ticklish pleasure down her neck and up to her lips. Her nostrils now awash with the sweet fragrance, Ana pictures his lips on hers, and cannot stop the soft mewling sound that escapes her throat.

"Easy, baby; I've barely started."

He knows her body; knows the places he can touch that will make her desperate for more. Trembling, her heart racing and her breath coming in ragged bursts, Ana endures the delicate, floral caress on several of them; inside the elbows, then wrists, the spot inside her hips that makes her squirm on that fine line between pleasurable and intolerable, and her now quivering thighs. Next, the rose bud meanders up her torso and around one breast, spiraling slowly in towards the nipple; already at attention in readiness for his caress. Almost to the center, it spirals out again, only for this torture to be repeated on the other breast. "Bastard."

Sounding blissfully content, Christian agrees, "Yes, ma'am. Spread your legs and bend your knees a little, baby. I want to see you."

No longer embarrassed by such a request…well, not much, Ana immediately complies, clenching her eyes tight as the need to watch him watching her becomes overwhelming. Suddenly, she's alone with Shostakovich, but not for long. Seconds later she feels the mattress dip and Christian says, "You look like you're overheating a little, baby. Need to cool down?"

Somehow she just knows that the few seconds he was gone from her side were to fetch some ice. She's read about such things since meeting Christian, and enjoyed the descriptions, but they've never done it, so the incredibly powerful allure of something both exciting and unfamiliar means that her voice is barely audible when she squeaks, "Yes?"

Christian breathes a laugh and says, "Is that a question, baby?"

Knowing that he will genuinely want her input, Ana gulps, "No; not a question. I really want to try it, please."

"Look at me." He's naked; the firelight dancing off his skin and seeming to set his hair on fire, giving him almost a demonic expression; except for the tender love shining from his eyes.

_When did he have time to get naked? _"You're beautiful, Christian."

A smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, he says, "Thank you, baby." Then gesturing to the ice bucket, now within arm's reach of him, he continues, "There's little danger, as the ice has melted enough to smooth off any jagged edges, but I might get carried away and linger long enough for your skin to lose some sensation. Just let me know if it's not working for you, okay?"

Her body paradoxically on fire at the thought of Christian caressing her with ice, Ana earnestly declares, "Oh, I think it'll work just fine."

Christian chuckles and says, "I'm glad you're looking forward to it. Now close your eyes again."

Again effectively blind, Ana can tell that Christian is moving up the bed from that telltale flexing of the mattress. Suddenly, icy cold suffuses her lips and her eyes almost flicker open in shock, but she recovers quickly and clenches them tightly shut.

The ice is gone and Christian's mellow voice is filled with pride as he says, "Good girl. I think your reflexes have improved, baby."

"Well, you certainly do keep a girl on her toes, Mr. Grey."

This is met with only his delighted laughter. Seconds later, the ice is back, swirling around and around her lips, melting and running down her chin; a little trickling into her mouth, causing a reflexive swallow. Ana can't help the moan that escapes when Christian's contrastingly hot lips are suddenly on hers, greedily lapping the moisture from her mouth. He doesn't stay there nearly long enough, and the ice cube is back, but soon begins travelling over her already sensitive flesh, leaving tiny bumps of shocked pleasure in its wake. When she realizes that he's retracing the path he travelled with the rose – namely, her entire body – she begs, "Christian, please; we have to be up at six and I really am burning up here."

There's silence for a few seconds during which Ana almost opens her eyes, to ascertain his mood, then Christian says, "You're right. Sorry, baby, but you must know by now that I find you very distracting. If you didn't need food and sleep, I would gladly spend twenty hours a day pleasuring you."

Floating on a heavenly cloud of love, lust, surrender and trust, Ana smiles and asks, "Just twenty, darling?"

It's obvious he's not upset by her interruption when Christian warmly replies, "Hey, a guy needs his rest. Now shut the fuck up and feel; keep those eyes closed."

"Yes, Sir."

Not sure where he'll "attack" next, Ana scrunches her eyes shut, so is able to almost obey his command when she next feels the ice on her left nipple, merely releasing a soft "Ah," of surprise. When he then starts flicking the cube across the pebbled, wanton bundle of nerve ends, Ana's body twitches in response to this harsh pleasure. Just when she's beginning to wonder if she can take any more, the ice is gone and his hot mouth is on her breast. "Oh, God!"

She feels his smile against her skin, and he lifts his mouth just far enough away to joke, "Yes?"

But then there are no more words, from either of them. Christian's tongue, lips and teeth erase any trace of cold, until Ana is writhing in ecstasy, lost in that place just before release. And then his mouth is gone, to be replaced by his cooler than usual, but always skillful fingers; on both breasts. Having received no instruction about her body's responses, Ana still uses all she's learned from him to delay her orgasm, because she knows it will be worth the effort. But she almost fails in the instant when his lips then close around her right nipple, revealing that he'd been holding the ice in his mouth while he caressed her and, again, a blasphemous celebration or benediction is torn from her lips, "God, save me!"

And, again, Christian smiles against her willing flesh, then lifts his mouth enough to promise, "No."

He's moving again. Forcing herself to relax – almost impossible when she knows where he'll reappear – Ana is shocked when he grabs her ankles and pulls her towards the end of the bed, eliciting a yelp from her and making her eyes fly open. Of course, he's looking right at her, a smug grin on his face, and gently admonishes, "Naughty, naughty, Mrs. Grey."

He's not in Dom mode, so Ana smiles and protests, "Hey, I think I should get some sort of award for lasting that long."

He's a magnificent sight; standing at the end of the bed, gloriously naked, golden in the soft firelight, his hands still grasping her ankles and laughing with delight at her words. Dropping to his knees before her, resting her legs over his shoulders, he smiles and asks, "How about a _re_ward, instead?"

She knows him, too; and watches with delight as his gaze gets progressively darker and more intense when she deliberately slowly slides her hands up her body to simultaneously tweak both nipples – her body writhing a little at the pleasure of doing this while he practically devours her with his avid stare – then she commands, "Shut up and fuck me."

The soft sound torn from his throat could be a groan, growl or whimper, and its meaning is clear; he wants her, now. But he does nothing, not moving a muscle while he watches her now practiced hands caressing her breasts, until they're both panting with need. Eventually, he shakes his head a little, as if coming out of a daze, and jokes, "I could watch that twenty hours a day, too. But we've got a big day ahead of us, and I need to fuck my wife."

They both smile a little when his hand is obviously trembling as he reaches for another ice cube and pops it into his mouth; slightly awkward around her thigh. Without Christian watching her, Ana has little interest in her breasts, so she stretches her hands up to rest above her head and again closes her eyes as he lowers his mouth to her. First, it's his breath – cold, of course – puckering her needy flesh and making her clitoris pulse with greed. When his cool tongue touches her, she can't help but twitch in surprise at the alien feeling. But it soon becomes only pleasurable and she's lost in sensation as he alternates between hot and cold – fire and ice – until her orgasm is only seconds away.

Just before release, his mouth leaves her, provoking a whimper. Christian chuckles and says, "Need more ice. You're practically steaming down here."

Desperate for relief from the throbbing hunger in her body, Ana lifts her head to look at him and beg, "Please, let's just forget about it."

"Now, baby, you know better than that. I've already compromised this evening."

So she knows there's no point trying to hurry him along. Besides, it's always worth the wait. Again closing her eyes and relaxing in readiness for his return, Ana is wholly unprepared when he suddenly pushes a small ice cube _inside_ her. "Oh, fuck!"

Laughter in his voice, Christian chides, "Language, Mrs. Grey."

Drowning in unfamiliar sensation, Ana exclaims, "But, fuck, Christian…that's…I can't even describe it."

"Then shut the fuck up and enjoy it."

Then everything happens too fast for Ana's overworked brain to keep track; his fingers inside her, twirling against her g-spot and spreading the icy pleasure within, his cool tongue again on her clit, torturing and teasing her towards climax, and the rivulets of melting ice tickling her butt until she's ready to scream her frustration at being so close. And then she tips over, removed from earthly concerns, pulsing through layer upon layer of pleasure, and she does eventually scream; an incoherent celebration of life and love.

Eventually, she becomes aware of her surroundings, to see that Christian is alternately kissing her thighs and gazing up at her, and he asks, "Enough, baby?"

She knows that he means it; that he really would forgo his own pleasure, as he has done in the past, if she's too washed out to continue. Adamantly shaking her head in opposition of the idea, Ana reaches down to run her fingers through his hair in encouragement as she says, "Not nearly enough. And, please, can I watch you tonight?"

Her baby bump making face-to-face intercourse tricky, Christian considers for a moment, then asks, "No dizziness, nausea, heartburn; anything?"

Grateful, as ever, that her obsessive husband is constantly concerned about her comfort, Ana offers a silent, probably vain prayer that he'll stop mentioning symptoms of her pregnancy while they're having sex. "No, nothing. I'm fine. I just want to be able to see you."

Reassured, Christian grins and says, "I'd like that, too. Let me know if it's uncomfortable, okay?"

"I promise."

When Christian stands, silently encouraging Ana to wrap her legs around his waist, Ana sees that he's well and truly ready to be inside her; his dick at turgid attention. Smiling, she muses, "You really do enjoy giving me pleasure, don't you?"

"Baby, you have no idea. I almost came with you just now; as if we were sharing the orgasm."

Blushing at the memory of her body arching off the bed, and the scream of pleasure torn from her throat – in a way, insane with ecstasy at the time – Ana says, "Well, there certainly was enough for two."

Wondering how he can retain such control, Ana struggles to keep her gaze on his and her body's responses to a minimum when Christian slowly enters her, even as he calmly instructs, "Next one is for both of us, okay?"

In this, she has always been his to command, and replies, "Just say the word, Mr. Grey."

He smiles a little at that, then is silent, his already intense stare darkening with lust as he supports her weight with strong fingers spread under her buttocks, his thumbs pressing almost painfully into her hips, and slowly begins moving within her. Just the sight of him like this – primal Christian – is almost enough to trigger Ana's second orgasm. But she waits, anchoring her awareness on him; monitoring his response, until his speed quickens almost to a frantic pace, and she sees that moment of bliss appear on his face just before he grunts, "Now, Anastasia."

The love he always manages to instill into her full name is her undoing, and this time she calls out his name as they both become beings of pure rapture; lost in a euphoric world of mutual pleasure for what seems like an eternity. When Ana comes back down to earth, Christian is stretched out beside her, raised up on an elbow, so that he can look at her; one hand resting on her abdomen, the other gently smoothing the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair from her face as he bestows a blissful smile on her and rather breathlessly says, "I love you, wife."

Too spent even to speak, Ana merely smiles, trusting him to understand. It seems he does, for his smile widens and he tenderly kisses her, then adjusts his position so that he can kiss her mounded belly, saying, "And I love you. Sorry about the bumpy ride." At first concerned when he then utters "Fuck," Ana relaxes when Christian's feather light touch rests on both her hips in turn, and he explains, "I'm sorry, baby, but these might bruise; must have held on a little tight. Does it hurt?"

Exhaustion dragging at her, Ana says, "No. I'm fine. I swear. I enjoyed you gripping me like that, and it didn't really hurt, or I would have said something."

Somewhat appeased, Christian's frown eases a little as he says, "Well, okay." Still, he bestows an apologetic peck on both thumb prints before asking, "Need to pee?"

When she nods, he's already helping her to sit up as Ana says, "Far too frequently. He hasn't been measured for a while, but I suspect that our son is a giant; certainly feels like it where he presses on my bladder." Christian is chuckling in agreement as Ana gets off the bed. When her vulnerable behind suddenly falls prey to his ever-ready palm, she whirls on him, angrily asking, "What the fuck was that for?"

Unrepentant, Christian grins and says, "You opened your eyes, baby. I warned you. Plus, you look very sleepy and we haven't had our twenty minutes yet, so I thought it would perk you up a little."

Not genuinely angry – apparently still unable to summon more than mild annoyance when faced with Christian's boyish grin – Ana heads for the bathroom, rubbing her butt and muttering, "I'd like to perk _you_ up; ambushing a pregnant woman like that when she's just trying to pee."

Despite the warmth of their bedroom, the air in the bathroom and the tiles beneath her feet are more representative of the probably freezing outside temperature, so Ana doesn't linger. Still, when she returns, Christian has neatened the bed covers and is snug beneath them. Smiling kindly as he watches her approach, he lifts a corner so that she can climb into his arms. They kiss for a while, more affectionate than passionate. Remembering how insistent he was about their planned, daily conversation, Ana asks, "So, you have something you want to tell me?"

"Yes. But, can you try and stay calm? I really want to get this off my chest."

Her heart beating a little faster, and her muscles tensing in fear and anger, Ana guesses, "Elena?"

"Yes. But I think you'll like what I have to say."

Taking a few moments to erase her visceral reaction to that name, Ana then nods and says, "Okay."

Quickly kissing her, Christian says, "Thanks, baby." After a deep breath, he begins, "Being here, on this trip, I'm beginning to see…no, I need to start with the past. What Elena and I did; you can imagine that she didn't want anyone finding out about it."

It honestly doesn't feel like a choice when Ana bitterly murmurs, "I'll bet she didn't."

It's also a plea when Christian cautions, "Baby."

Snuggling closer in apology, Ana offers, "Sorry. Please, I want to hear what you have to say."

"I knew that what we were doing was illegal. I was young and, in many ways, innocent; but not ignorant. So I knew enough to be afraid of anyone finding out. And Elena played on that fear, reminding me time and again that, if anyone found out, what she called our 'special relationship' would be over in a moment; that she would be arrested and I'd be, at the very least, undergoing intensive therapy, at worst…." Another sigh and he continues, "But her need to protect herself, to keep our affair secret, meant that she went even further. She told me, and showed me, in so many ways, that regular people don't understand the lifestyle and would look at me with revulsion if they ever found out. She'd even…fuck, she'd even say things like that when she was at Bellevue, just so I could see the look of disgust on Mom's face."

Desperate to soothe his obvious anxiety, but wanting to give him this chance, that he clearly desperately wants, Ana asks only, "Things like what? You mean when she was Grace's friend and used to attend family functions?"

"Yes. Elena…she never liked to waste an opportunity to exercise her control over me, so would use such events to remind me that I belonged to her." With a wry grin, he comments, "I spent those parties concealing my rock hard erection, desperate for any contact with her. But she was too cautious for that, and would later punish me most severely if I so much as let my arm brush hers, or even spoke to her without her initiating the conversation. And the punishments were even worse if I tried to avoid her; to spare myself this discomfort." Not game to open her mouth because of the anger these words elicit, Ana is silently fuming when Christian continues, "She'd allude to news reports from all over the country, but not often enough to seem weird; female teacher caning and fucking a male student, woman fucking her step-son while the husband slept in the next room, stuff like that." Shaking his head, he says, "I don't know how she guessed it about me, but she knew that I would misinterpret Mom's expression."

Mention of her mother-in-law's eternal benevolence is enough to relax Ana so that she's able to calmly state, "Grace hates the predators, not the victims."

"Yes. Even though I was fucked up enough…and young enough back then, to fall for Elena's stunt, I worked it out eventually. But the damage was already done, and enough people consider kink abhorrent that I came to accept it as the truth; my desires were disgusting."

"But…I thought Flynn helped you realize that lots of people live this way…I mean, not seducing teenagers, but…you know."

"Yes, he helped a lot. But I was so under her spell that Elena's words always meant more to me than Flynn's…at least until I broke away from her and found my own definition of what it means to be dominant."

After a moment, Ana quietly dares, "Except that you didn't; not really."

Christian sighs and concedes, "No; not really. Even in that I leaned on her for guidance. She picked every brown-haired girl that subbed for me. Thinking back, I realize now that she even subtly encouraged my delusion that I needed to beat replicas of my mother to get off." Smiling at Ana, he adds, "Clearly, not true."

Delighted that they can now have discussions like this without either of them getting too anxious, Ana giggles and says, "No; all sorts of things get you off." They're still gazing lovingly into each other's eyes when Ana asks, "So, this trip is further eroding that feeling of shame?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Christian explains, "Yes. I have never…and I mean _never_, felt this okay about my sex life; as if, and I'm not saying that I actually want to, but almost as if I could tell people about what we get up to in the bedroom and playroom…you know, without having them sign an NDA first." Ana is smiling her pride as he finishes, and he mirrors the gesture before asking, "You've always felt okay about it, haven't you? I mean, I'm guessing you don't want to sit down and discuss kink with your mom, but you wouldn't be ashamed if she knew."

"No, I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure Ray would threaten to rip your arms off, until I convinced him that this is what I want, but I'd even be okay with Dad knowing. And I'm very, very glad that you're no longer ashamed of us." With a sudden grin, she adds, "But not as happy as Flynn will be at this news; he's been waiting longer than I have."

"Yeah, I guess so." Then holding her a little tighter, Christian says, "Thank you, baby. Not even with the good doctor have I ever had this feeling; that I can say anything and you'll hear me out without judging me."

Ready to burst from happiness and pride, in both of them, Ana smiles and says, "I do judge you, but it's always favorably."

And then Ana wonders if her smile looks the same as his; blissfully content. She accepts his kiss, then snuggles against his chest, falling asleep to the incredibly reassuring sound of his strong heartbeat.


	37. Chapter 37

Author's note: I'd be embarrassed to tell you how long I spent deciding how to spell "Boadicea"; eventually settling on the version most used by Americans, since that is the nationality of our main protagonists. If you're unhappy with my choice, please direct all your complaints to the ancient Romans; they started this mess in the first place.

The details of their hike can be found by searching "Borger Dalr geology walk, Borrowdale".

Bonus sex scene (indirectly) courtesy of my poor husband, who is suffering a nasty cold and doesn't want to inflict it on me when we're going away for a week. Remember; skiing trip? See you not very soon. Enjoy. And, thank you, for reading.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-seven

Ana startles awake to the shrill, foreign sound of the phone on the nightstand, just before a fully dressed Christian brusquely answers it, "Thank you." Hanging up, he perches on the bed and gently pushes her unruly bed hair from her face as he says, "Sorry, baby. I forgot to cancel the wakeup call. You've got time for a quick shower before breakfast, but don't wash your hair. It's cold enough outside that it might freeze to your head if it's damp."

Capturing his hand and kissing the palm in greeting before releasing it and stretching like a cat, uncaring that her breasts are then revealed, Ana sleepily says, "Morning, husband. How long have you been up?"

Unashamedly ogling her bare breasts, Christian leers, "About two seconds."

An answering passion languidly spreading through her body, her nipples crinkling as if on command, Ana giggles. "Not that sort of 'up'. Did you have a nightmare?"

Suddenly serious, Christian reveals, "No, I…the weather is really bad. I've just been talking to our guide."

"The storm is here early?"

"No; still not due to hit until we're snug in our hotel room tonight. But more snow fell overnight, it's currently raining nonstop, and the wind will be fairly howling up in the hills."

"What does our guide say?"

"That if we don't mind cold, wind, rain and maybe snow, we should be fine."

Hoping to make light of the situation, because she knows that Christian is considering cancelling their hike out of concern for her and Blip, Ana laughs and says, "Did you tell them we're from Seattle?" When he only smiles a little at that, she pleads, "I'm really looking forward to it. I've wanted to go hiking with you since…well, forever, but we never have time at home. And Lea or Nigel will accompany us, right?"

Christian nods and reveals, "Nigel; Bree, too…just in case. Lea will keep an eye on Carla." Finally able to smile, confirming that he's decided to proceed, he jokes, "Dangerous things, pedicures."

Sitting up, Ana plants a grateful kiss on his cheek and says, "Thank you. I _will_ have that shower. Don't wait if breakfast arrives before I'm done." When Christian doesn't move out of her way and his suddenly intense gaze traces the curves of her body like a caress, that smoldering hunger within Ana's body becomes a roaring fire and she eagerly asks, "Not having a shower just yet?"

Suddenly standing and shedding clothes like Clark Kent changing into Superman, Christian says, "Not alone." He's only removed his sweater and t-shirt when Ana leaps out of bed and rushes past him. Quick as ever, nabbing her wrist, he asks, "Going somewhere, wife?"

Rolling her eyes before she can stop herself, Ana says, "Bathroom? You do remember that I'm pregnant with our child, right?"

Dragging her closer, he runs a hand over her protruding belly and proudly says, "Oh, I remember; such a turn on now that you're showing."

Smiling at his possessive tone, Ana suggests, "Proof of your virility?"

"Something like that, I suspect…maybe evidence of our bond, too. But it feels too deep for words."

Ana smiles and affectionately pronounces, "Caveman." Christian's expression has become more intense and he's drawing her into his embrace when Ana reminds him, "Still need to pee."

Immediately releasing her, Christian pouts, "Fuck, I'll be glad when that's over."

Turning and heading to the bathroom, Ana says, "Not as glad as me. Ow!"

Whirling on him, one hand on her stinging backside, Ana has to laugh when Christian explains, with great satisfaction, "You rolled your eyes."

Not genuinely concerned – she knows that he's playing – Ana says, "And we agreed to wait before resuming Discipline."

Christian shrugs and suggests, one eyebrow raised, "Call it foreplay, then?"

Of course, Christian's hand on her ass, when she was already ablaze with desire, is exactly that; the slight, burning pain further fanning the flame within. As ever, unwilling to concede the point, Ana approaches and trails one fingertip down his bare chest, twice round his navel, down that promising column of hair to the low slung waistband of his jeans. Pouring all her need for him into her voice, she then says, "Why don't you warm up the shower, husband? I'll be with you _very_ soon."

Backing away this time, so he can't regain the upper…palm, Ana is rewarded by Christian's hissed, "Fuck, you're good at this."

Delighted that it worked so well, Christian's readiness evident in the prominent bulge in his jeans, Ana laughs as she heads for the en suite. "I learned from an expert."

She hears the shower start while she's in the thankfully private toilet. For some reason quickly cleaning her hands even though she's about to enter the shower, Ana sees that Christian is washing his hair, facing away from her. Joining him as quietly as possible, she warns "Keep your eyes closed, or you'll get shampoo in them," then rests her hands on his hips for the second it takes him to recover from the surprise. Next pressing her palms flat against his back, she comments, "I don't get to do this nearly often enough," as she travels the contours of his sculpted muscles with her eager hands.

"Mmm…I guess not; I'm always indulging my need to enjoy the delights of _your_ body. I forget that you like mine just as much."

Resting her face against him, reaching around to caress his equally well-defined midriff, unmindful of the soapy water flowing over both of them, Ana insists, "More."

Christian chuckles and says, "I seriously doubt that, baby." Then quickly rinsing his hair and turning in her arms, he adds, "Breakfast will be here soon. How about we fuck now, and you can make love to me tonight?"

Shaking her head a little, in an effort to reconcile the suddenly potent feelings these words elicit, Ana reveals, "That's maybe the sexiest thing you've ever said to me."

His eyes gleaming with love and lust, gently forcing her back against the tiles, the cold marble cooling her skin, but not her ardor, Christian secures both her wrists high above her head in one of his hands as he says "I think I'd better test this theory," even as his other hand tweaks a nipple, making her tense in delighted surprise, before caressing down her body, towards her groin.

"Oh, God. Please, Christian."

"Please what, baby?"

"Just please."

One finger teasing at her entrance, even as his thumb deftly flicks across her clitoris, Christian asks, "Because it's all good?"

Already lost in a universe of pleasure, Ana summons a distant memory of how to form words. "Because it's all fucking fantastic."

Without another word, Christian turns Ana, silently guiding her body into a wide stance against the shower wall. His feet placed behind hers, so there is no chance she'll fall, he bends his knees and almost too slowly enters her, savoring the moment with a long, drawn out sigh. With both of them so ready, it doesn't take long before first Ana and then Christian reach their goal; Christian almost lifting Ana off the floor as he slams into her from behind, his fingers entwined in hers where their hands now rest against the wall.

Finally easing out of her, as he leaves a row of grateful kisses along her shoulders, he jokes, "I do love starting the day with a bang." They both hear the knock at the door. "That'll be breakfast." Sticking his head out of the cubicle, Christian yells, "Just a minute!"

Ana has turned to face him, but is leaning against the wall, hands by her sides, palms flat against the tiles; her entire body ever so slightly trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. Perfunctorily rinsing his dick in the still cascading water, Christian asks, "You okay, baby?"

Nodding, so he won't worry, Ana manages, "Trying to remember how to use my body without you telling it what to do."

Beaming his approval of her reply, he quickly kisses her and exits as he reiterates, "Mine."

Summoning the strength to move into the steady stream of water and reach for the body wash, Ana watches her gorgeous husband wrap a towel around his waist and leave the en suite, apparently uncaring of the droplets of water still cascading down his body and thinks that, if he returned and insisted on another round, she'd be more than happy to oblige.

* * *

Their three hour hike, beginning in the village of Grange, Borrowdale, starts just after dawn under almost black storm clouds, in a harsh rain that feels on the very cusp of freezing, that gets progressively worse as they head up into the hills around the valley; the relentless wind soon blowing the biting droplets sideways into what little of their faces are exposed to the elements. Still, they're dressed for the hostile conditions, so Ana has a wonderful time. And, of course, that's enough to ensure that Christian is also sporting a fierce grin every time she smiles at him. They hold hands – well, gloves – where the trail permits, and take turns extolling the beauty of the wilderness around them when not listening to their personable and knowledgeable guide. When they reach Castle Crag, site of an Iron Age fort high above the valley, Ana's feet are drawn, as if with a will of their own, towards a narrow outcrop extending out over the pastureland below, until Christian's concerned "Ana," stops her.

Feeling, in some undefinable way, a sudden and powerful kinship with her ancestors, who may well have stood on this very spot – cold rain stinging their cheeks as they stared out at what was then a large lake – Ana looks to their guide, who says, "It's stable enough, but obviously risky if you go close to the edge."

Christian has heard, so Ana smiles reassuringly at him and instructs, "You can stay as close behind me as you like, but please don't touch me." When his only answer is a twitch of his clenched jaw, she promises, "I'll be careful."

His expression warring between concern and curiosity, Christian does Ana the courtesy of trusting her enough to nod, even as he issues a silent command to Nigel. Mindful of her footing on the loose rocks near the edge of the cliff, Ana cautiously proceeds until Christian gruffly begs, "Enough."

Nodding her comprehension of his limits, Ana then pushes back the hood of her raincoat, removes her beanie and scarf, and stows them, along with her gloves, inside the ample pockets of her coat. Face open to the tempestuous sky, she needs both hands to tame her instantly damp, windswept hair as she silently celebrates feeling this close to nature. It takes only seconds to appease this need in her, that she hadn't even been aware of until just now. Then reaching blindly behind her, she turns only when Christian's firm grip on her wrist will ensure her safe retreat to more stable ground. As she again wraps up against the cold, she can't quite discern the thought behind his stare and asks, "What?" When he can only shake his head in wonder at her antics, she moves into his embrace and offers him a grateful kiss before whispering, for his ears only, "I know; I kind of want to fuck you, too."

Christian laughs and kisses her, lingering this time, then lovingly pronounces, "You're insane."

They're about to head off again when Bree says, "Sir?"

Glancing at her, to see that she's proffering her compact camera, Christian accepts it and shields it from the rain as he looks at the selected photo; Ana in profile as she stands on the cliff, flanked by Nigel and Christian, as if they're her servants, her hands rising towards her wild, auburn locks, looking for all the world as if she's beseeching some unseen force. Mesmerized by the tiny image, he stares at it for several seconds and then asks Bree, even as he hands the camera to Ana, "Can you send it to me?"

"Of course, sir. I'll do so tonight."

Ana also looks at it for several seconds, then returns the camera to its owner as she says, "Thanks. Doesn't even really look like me, does it?"

Christian and their amateur photographer nurse exchange a knowing glance, then he says, "Baby, it _is_ you; brave, strong and powerful." With a wink at Bree, he adds, "Also, sexy as hell."

Blushing at such high praise, especially in company, Ana ineffectually slaps his arm as she says, "Stop kidding around."

Laughing at little at her modesty, Christian insists, "I'm not. Bree?"

Smiling, Bree says, "I'm afraid he's right, Ana. I am in the fortunate position of being able to choose my clients. When the agency contacted me, I checked you out. So I knew that you were incredibly brave and very strong even before we met." With a cheeky grin, she concludes, "But only on meeting you did I understand that you also wield great power."

Remembering that she first met Bree when the poor woman was enduring one of Christian's tirades, which she stopped merely with her presence, Ana laughs and says, "Fair enough. Can we move on before I get really embarrassed?"

The rest of their hike is completed without Ana once again channeling Boadicea, much to Christian's relief, and they stop at a café in the village for a hot drink by an open fire, plus a fortifying snack. Back at the Cranleigh, a suitably pampered Carla is ready and waiting, so they freshen up and head straight to the marina, accompanied only by Nigel. On seeing the name of the luxury motor yacht waiting for them, Ana laughs and asks, "Mistress?"

Holding his hands up in defense, Christian jokes, "Not mine, I swear." Then gesturing to the craft, he adds, his eyes gleaming with covetous delight, "She's a beauty though, isn't she?"

Happier than she can express, at his boyish enthusiasm, Ana says, "I thought you preferred sail or electric power?"

Of course bypassing the waiting crew member, to personally help Ana aboard, Christian says, "Oh, I do, baby. But this is a fifty foot Sealine T50; most men would fall prey to her charms."

Moving into his embrace as he joins her on deck, temporarily shielded from the weather by fitted clear vinyl walls, Ana means something else entirely when she smiles and says, "But you're a one boat kind of guy?"

His ready grin confirming that he's understood, Christian teases, "Well, one at a time, anyway."

He's still wearing too many layers for Ana to exact a punishment on his ticklish ribs, so she leans close and whispers, "You'll be sorry for that, later."

Embracing her, Christian murmurs "Well, that sounds promising," before his lips descend to hers.

They break apart only when Carla stage whispers to Nigel, "Do they ever stop?"

Glancing at her mom, Ana sees that, despite her "complaint", Carla is clearly glad of her daughter's happiness; her face bright with shared joy. Caressing the bulge in her coat that represents her son, Ana jokes, "Hey, this little guy is going to seriously mess with our love life for a while when he's born, so we need to make the most of our time, now." When the light goes out of Carla's eyes, like the flick of a switch, Ana guesses that it's because of another young wife, with a babe in arms, and no man to hold her. As if she's commanded it, Christian suddenly releases her and Ana moves to put an arm around her mother's shoulders as she murmurs, "God, I'm sorry, Mom."

Forcing a smile, Carla reassures her, "It's okay, sweetie; not your fault, and it was a very long time ago. But you never know when things like that will sneak up and bite you. Let's just have fun, okay?"

Still a little concerned, but glad that she's not done lingering harm, Ana returns the smile, with effort, and brightly asks Christian, "Champagne?"

Cheerfully saluting both of them, he says "For Carla? Certainly. For you; fruit juice," and moves to obey.

When he still hasn't returned from the cabin by the time they've settled in, with a perfect view of the lake as the boat gets underway – Nigel, as always, unobtrusively vigilant, and the small crew out of sight – Carla asks, "Is he taking a long time?"

Ana giggles, remembering Jacque once doing the same thing, and says, "He's probably giving us time to chat." Suddenly serious, she asks, "You're really okay?"

Resting a hand on Ana's for a moment, Carla assures, "I'm fine. I'd like to think you have no bad memories. But I'm sure you already know that they reappear every now and then, even if things are going well. I'm mostly happy, I swear. Bob is very good to me."

"I'm glad." Suddenly presented with the perfect opportunity to ask something that has always nagged at her, Ana still hesitates a moment and asks, "Mom…why didn't it work out with Ray?" At Carla's surprise, she quickly adds, "Oh, not suggesting you should get back together. I gave up that wish long ago. And I like Bob; he's good for you. I just…I never understood. Dad is such a good guy."

Carla nods and agrees, "He is; one of the best." With a sigh, she continues, "Good enough to take on a weeping woman and a crying baby, because they had no one else. And I genuinely thought myself in love with him, for a long while. But it was actually gratitude; enough to sustain a friendship, thankfully, but not a marriage."

When she's quiet for a while, Ana nervously says, "I remember you arguing…a lot."

With a grimace, Carla can't quite meet her daughter's eyes to reveal, "Yes. I'm sorry you ever heard that, sweetie. I'm not proud of it, but…as I fell out of love with Ray, I began to resent him for apparently taking advantage of me…of trapping me, when I was vulnerable." When Ana says nothing, Carla finally looks at her to offer a wry grin and admit, "Okay, I'm wholeheartedly ashamed of it."

Glad that she didn't have to say it, Ana agrees, "So you should be. Dad would never do that."

"No, he wouldn't. If I hadn't convinced myself that I was in love with him, he would have remained forever a friend to me and a father figure to you, without asking for more. I think he knew my true feelings even before I did. And, being the gentleman he is, Ray was the one who ended our marriage, even though I suspect he was still in love with me. I remain grateful, to this day, that he didn't let it linger and become something sordid."

Again unsure, having never really been chatty with her mother, Ana nervously suggests, "Sometimes…I think he's still in love with you. He's not had a long-term relationship since. I don't think he even saw anyone while I was living with him."

Carla smiles serenely and says, "Oh, he would have been seeing someone. But I'm glad he was discreet." More serious, she continues, "Yes, I know what you mean…maybe one day; he certainly deserves happiness. I felt guilty about that for a while, too. But he and Bob have helped me see that it's not my fault." Louder, she concludes, "Enough of this introspection. Where's that champagne?"

Right on cue, Christian climbs the few stairs from the cabin, carrying a tray of drinks and protesting, "Hold your horses, it's tricky to pour on a moving boat."

He serves the drinks, a question on his face as he hands Ana hers. Understanding that he's asking if she needs more time, she smiles and pats the seat beside her. As he sits down, she says, "Better turn away, Mom." With an ostentatious groan, Carla does just that. Ana kisses Christian well enough that he'll understand how grateful she is for this chance to get to know her mother a little better. Just in case, she then rests her hand over his heart as she softly breathes, "Thank you."

Acknowledging her gratitude with a slight smile and a small nod, Christian then attracts Carla's attention and asks, "What's the toast today?"

Carla considers for a moment, then holds up her glass and suggests, "Love?"

Beaming his pleasure at the idea, Christian extends his glass and warmly declares, "To love."

Ana joins in and then takes a sip, nearly choking on her apple juice when Nigel, usually silent while on duty, solemnly intones, "Amen."

* * *

They finish the cruise under softly falling snow; the driving wind sending each flake into a mad flurry, giving the distinct impression that they never reach the ground; an illusion dispelled by the thin blanket of evidence at their feet. Despite being able to relax while they explored Lake Windermere from the sheltered comfort of "Mistress", and enjoying a sumptuous lunch in the luxurious dining room below decks, Christian's brow is permanently etched with concern as they head back to collect the rest of their party. Ana rubs the back of his hand that is holding hers across the armrest. When that draws his attention, she quietly asks, "Can I do anything?"

Banishing the frown, Christian forces a weak smile and says, "Sorry, baby. We're heading for York and the roads will be hell."

"Well, can we stay here another night?"

With a sad smile, Christian reveals, "They'll be much worse tomorrow. We'll stay in York a couple of nights; give things a chance to settle down." Nodding towards Nigel, he adds, "He's a better driver even than Taylor, and used to these conditions. It'll be fine."

Since there's nothing she can do, Ana tries to make light of the situation. "Your life would be so much easier if you could just control the weather, wouldn't it?"

Christian manages a laugh and raises her hand to his lips before teasing, "Maybe I should try it; the weather would probably give me less trouble than you do. I can't believe you did that…or that I let you."

Almost out of her seat to look back at them, Carla asks, "Did what?"

In a disapproving tone, Christian replies, "Stand on a cliff like a madwoman during our hike this morning. Bree has a photo of it."

Smiling at Ana with obvious pride, Carla reveals, "She was never afraid of heights. Ray used to throw her high up in the air and catch her, nearly stopping my heart every time; both of them laughing like crazy. Do you remember, Annie, that time you were wearing bib and brace overalls and the straps broke?"

Ana remembers only that it was sometimes mentioned in her parents' arguments for years after the event, so knows enough to say, "Uh, I'm not sure Christian will like this story, Mom."

As if these words are a request for more, Carla looks at Christian to explain, "Ray was left hanging onto the overalls, but no child." Adding a flamboyant hand gesture, she continues, "Ana zipped along the floorboards like a bowling ball, banged her head against the wall and leapt to her feet, yelling, 'Again, Daddy!'" Then shaking her head and smiling, Carla concludes, "I'd never seen him look scared before. He was trembling and had to sit down. I don't think they ever played that game again."

The lightness of his tone proving that he's not _very_ upset, Christian chides, "Ana's right; I don't like that story."

Clearly still unafraid of him, Carla flashes a cheeky grin and says, "Sorry. I won't tell you how she got her fractures, then."

Christian's gaze snaps to Ana as he asks, "_Fractures_…plural?"

Remembering that she told him only about her broken collarbone, Ana blushes as she confesses, "I, uh, cracked a bone in my foot jumping off the roof." When Christian's jaw drops open in shock, she shrugs, adding, "It was a low roof."

"Why on earth…?"

Smiling, Carla reveals, "To see if she could fly, like some boy in a story. That was the sort of thing that happened when I made her close whatever book she was reading and go outside; she'd just move the fantasy outdoors." At Christian's obvious distress, she gently adds, "I'm not saying I wouldn't have stopped that particular escapade, but letting them takes risks is the hardest thing we'll do for our children. It's also an essential part of growing up."

Proving that he's understood the message, Christian settles his earnest gaze on Carla to say, "I'm working on it. But can you go a little easy on me? I'm already picturing this car in a snowy ditch before the day is over."

With a kind smile, Carla nods and says, "I can do that." Suddenly brightening, she shuffles in her chair a little and asks, "Do these things turn? We could play cards or something while we're stuck in traffic. I brought a deck. I'm sure Bree will want in on the action."

Worried that face time with his mother-in-law and their plucky nurse will _not_ improve Christian's mood, Ana is opening her mouth to protest when he says, "They do, indeed; just the thing to take my mind of this British weather."

The torrential rain, gale force winds and occasional snowfall mean that progress is slow for the passengers (now facing each other) cocooned inside the luxury Range Rover; giving Ana time to learn that she can actually bluff Christian, setting his expression in an almost permanent pout, until she's fighting the urge not to laugh at his petulance. The other women are no match for either of them, so their friendly Texas Hold'em tournament puts most of the British pence in Ana's pockets. Nigel transports them safely to Haworth, though they only have time to visit the Bronte Parsonage, where that talented family lived for a time, before continuing to York. On seeing the name of their hotel, Ana laughs and asks Christian, "Grays Court? A little narcissistic, don't you think?"

Unperturbed, Christian shrugs and says, "It just happens to offer some of the finest accommodation and dining in the city." Pointing to the nearby cathedral, magnificent even in this fading light, he adds, "Plus, it's right next to York Minster, so we'll have something to do even if we get snowed in overnight." Smiling at Carla and Bree, still facing them, he adds, "Unless you'd like to stay in and play cards?"

Carla huffs her indignation and Bree exclaims, "Not bloody likely."


	38. Chapter 38

Author's note: Back from ski trip with a sprained knee; not too serious, but my movements are hampered, so I got this much done overnight, and thought that some is better than none. My gratitude to the reader who helped me understand Domestic Discipline a little better, but would rather not be named. DD will remain a part of our lovers' lives, but only a small part.

Oh, thanks to my left knee trying to fold sideways, I had time to read fanfic while I was away, but not to review. If you're one of my favorite authors and also read this, I hope you'll understand.

Thank you, for reading.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-eight

This evening, the mid-latitude cyclone officially known as Friedhelm, but which the Scots almost immediately dubbed Hurricane Bawbag – from their word for "scrotum" – struck the west coast and cut a swathe across the land; bombarding Scotland with torrential rain and hurricane strength winds, lifting roof tiles and knocking over chimneys throughout Britain, and covering the entire nation in a thick carpet of fresh snow. Some people north of York are already without power, and roads in and around Lake Windermere are closed due to flash flooding.

But Ana and Christian know nothing of this, and have enjoyed a lovely dinner in one of the hotel's private dining rooms before saying goodnight to Bree and Carla. Unconcerned about the constant howl of the gale outside, they're holding hands as Lea checks their suite for the last time today and bids them goodnight. Alone, behind a locked door, Christian presses Ana back against the wall – mindful of the fetal bump between them – securing both her hands as he kisses her with an intensity to rival the tempest raging around them. When she's able to speak, Ana pleads, "No."

Pulling back enough to look at her, more curious than upset, he asks, "No?"

Lust, love and pure delight evident in her expression and tone, Ana reminds him, "You promised; I get to make love to _you_ tonight."

Smiling, Christian immediately releases Ana and takes a step back, saying, "So I did. Where do you want me, Mrs. Grey?"

Hesitating only a moment, mainly to catch her breath, Ana says, "Uh, naked on the bed."

With a fierce grin, he starts stripping, but hasn't got very far when his phone starts repeatedly chanting, "Boss!"

With an apologetic grimace, Christian reveals, "Ros. I left strict instructions that she not call my cell unless it's an emergency."

Unable to control the disappointment she feels at this development, Ana pouts, "A work emergency."

Immediately on guard against her mood change, Christian accepts the call with a brusque "Wait," and explains to Ana, "Yes. Ros doesn't dick around. If she's calling me, it's important."

When Ana holds out her hand for the phone, Christian hesitates, everything about him expressing wariness. Managing to keep a straight face, Ana reinforces her demand with a flourish of her fingers, and he complies. Still deadpan, Ana tells Christian's trusted subordinate, "Ros? It's Ana. We were just about to have sex, so if you could not keep Christian very long, I'd appreciate it." She doesn't hear the stuttered reply, as the phone has already been snatched from her hand. "I saw a library off the foyer. I'll be there with Lea when you're done."

It's the most daring thing she's done for a while, and her heart is hammering at her own audacity as Ana picks up her bodyguard on the way and heads to the hotel library, which turns out to be extensive, and features many quality editions that she'd be happy to have in her home. She's sitting cross-legged on the sofa, lost in a world of literature, even the smell of the old tomes answering some deep-seated need in her, when the book is removed from her hands as someone almost fiercely kisses the back of her neck.

Surprisingly, she'd actually managed to forget antagonizing Christian earlier. But her heart remembers and is thumping against her ribcage when she reminds him, "You promised."

His tone deliciously threatening, Christian calmly says, "A promise I intend to keep, after I fuck you."

Since the whole point of her rebellion was to make Christian this desperate, Ana asks only, "Cameras?"

Christian nips her shoulder, sending a shudder of pleasure through her body and says, "Corridor only."

Even though she'd been too preoccupied to notice it happening, Ana knows that Lea will now be outside the shut door, barring entrance to anyone. She also knows that Christian will never really hurt her, but the echo of who he was – that man who liked to beat women before fucking them – ensures that some part of Ana's mind is screaming at her to flee. Instead, she turns and kneels to face him, reaching a hand towards his belt buckle.

Leaning the top of his thighs against the low sofa to facilitate her plan, Christian rapt stare follows Ana's every move as she frees his hardening dick and encourages it with her hand a few times before taking it in her mouth, drawing a deep, satisfied sigh from him at the rightness of it. Still riled up and incredibly turned on by her earlier impertinence, he knows that she is not only expecting, but actually craving a little roughness from him. As always, eager to fulfill her needs, he threads both hands through her hair in an apparently gentle caress, then suddenly tugs it hard enough to just hurt; his dick pulsing in delight when the slight pain causes a moan of pleasure deep in her throat.

Using that grip to guide her movements, he fucks her sweet mouth until he's ready to explode. But this is not where he wants to finish. So he withdraws from her with a delightful moist popping sound that almost pushes him over the edge. Ana's beautiful face looks up at him in dazed bewilderment, hands gripping the back of the sofa as she awaits his instructions, so he snarls, "Don't fucking move." He knows that this is exactly what both of them need when her only reply is a knowing smile.

Quickly moving behind her, he sees that her dress is already hiked up her thighs a little, so it doesn't take much effort to expose her lilywhite bottom. Pondering for a moment the likelihood of being able to exact his "revenge" on her willing flesh without attracting attention from either the proprietors, patrons, or their travelling companion: she-who-must-not-be-named-during-sex, he settles for kneading her buttocks in a brutal caress as he demands, "Did you deliberately provoke me, when you knew that I wouldn't be able to immediately do anything about it?"

Christian's love for his wife only grows when Ana gleefully replies, "You bet your fucking ass I did, Sir."

Struggling not to laugh in celebration of her courage, he grabs his cock and pushes it between her clenched upper thighs, sliding the tip against her clit and coating both of them in her juices as he "admonishes", "That was a very, very naughty thing to do."

Ana's white-knuckle grip on the sofa, sheen of sweat on her lower back and almost constant mewling sound in her throat confirms that she's ready for him when she manages to groan, "Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

It's too much. "Fuck, baby, I nearly fucking came right then."

Reaching one hand down to guide him into her, Ana uses one of the phrases guaranteed to make him lose control, "No one's stopping you, Mr. Grey."

He waits only until she's again gripping the back of the sofa before grasping her hips and plunging into her with everything he has, and is rewarded by the sight of Ana biting the back of her hand to stifle her rapturous screams, the move accentuating the curve of her elegant neck and causing her hair to cascade over her face. By now he doesn't give a fuck if she screams her pleasure to the rooftops, so he knots a hand in her hair and pulls back, almost again losing his load when she yelps in pain and surprise. Now able to look down on her face stretched in ecstasy, he sets up a punishing rhythm until, only seconds later, white hot pleasure erupts within him, exploding out from his ejaculating cock in orgasmic waves until he's literally and figuratively drained.

When he comes to his senses, his fingers are enmeshed in Ana's where they still rest on the furniture. Easing his weight a little from her, he tenderly kisses the back of her neck and gasps, "I forgive you."

Ana giggles, that wonderful warm sound that promises redemption for all his sins, and says, "I thought you might." He gently withdraws from her and they silently repair their appearance. She moves onto his lap as if he'd actually voiced that wish, then asks, "Not too much? And is Ros okay? I don't want to really make her uncomfortable. It was just…I kind of got carried away."

First offering a reassuring kiss, Christian says, "Not _too_ much, though I'll thank you not to try that with all my employees. Ros and I have known each other long enough that it wasn't too excruciating. What the fuck made you think of that?"

"Uh, I dunno…I guess it was just the literal truth, and I knew it would excite you."

Idly caressing her face, he ponders, "Weird, isn't it; we start talking about resuming Discipline and you're suddenly provoking me, when you haven't done anything like that for months, despite being at the whim of hormones and under a lot of stress."

With a serene smile, Ana says, "Not really that weird. I love it when you punish me."

A triumphant grin spreading over his features, Christian asks, "Did you ever imagine saying those words to me?"

Again, that wonderful, lilting laugh and she simply says, "No." Suddenly serious, she continues, "Speaking of which, I'm not sure it's going to work, other than as foreplay."

Guessing that she's talking about his proposal to help with her to-do list, Christian is also serious when he says, "Yeah, that occurred to me, too. You're likely to fuck up, just so I'll spank you, even if I keep it separate from play. This is a new approach for me, baby, and I want it to work, so I'm open to suggestions. I'm happy to get inventive, but you're really not a fan of humiliation, and it might prove too much for you on a regular basis."

He knows that Ana is contemplating something that scares her when she gnaws on her lip for a few seconds before releasing it. "What about…maybe we could try implements?"

_Fuck! _It's not a need; he's turned those old urges inside out with Flynn, making sure that his desires now match Ana's, but just the thought of taking a cane or paddle to her precious behind…. Shuffling a little, to accommodate his growing erection, he nervously asks, "Like what?"

Of course, she notices and wriggles a little as she cheerfully says, "Well, _someone_ is happy with the idea." Immediately back to nervous, she asks, "What do you recommend? I've done some research and…I'm not sure I'll ever want the cane, I'm sorry."

Clutching her to him, desperate for her to understand, Christian says, "Hey, don't apologize. If you don't want it, then neither do I. We could try a wooden paddle? It's a cliché for a reason."

Wondering if he'll be able to get through this conversation without again fucking her, when Ana squirms in unconscious pleasure at the thought of him paddling her, he's using every technique he knows to calm his breathing when she guilelessly asks, "Does it hurt?"

Smiling at her innocence, remarkable after all they've done together, Christian says, "Like a son of a bitch, sweetheart; that's kind of the point."

Nestling her head against his neck, as if trying to burrow into him, Ana's voice is barely audible when she asks, "What if it turns out that I like that, too?"

"I seriously doubt that, baby. You're only intrigued by the idea of it. Once you've felt it you'll know why it's been used for hundreds of years to correct wayward wives."

Daring to threaten his ticklish ribs, Ana echoes, "Wayward?"

Letting her win, he amends, "Okay; wonderful. Now, there was some talk of making love to me? I think we're pushing our luck if we do that here."

"You don't need to talk about this some more?"

"Not unless you do. I know we've been literally flirting with Discipline since the last time we discussed it, but we've also agreed to wait until we get back before officially resuming."

Suddenly standing, Ana smiles and offers her hand as she says, "You're right, it can wait. Come on; I have a pressing need to make love to my husband."

Accepting her hand and rising to his feet beside her, Christian knows that he would follow wherever she leads as he earnestly declares, "Lucky bastard."


	39. Chapter 39

Author's note: Got a Private Message berating my support of a favorite author, who is daring to be original...not easy with fanfic, believe me. I didn't reply, and won't go into detail here, as both would be pointless exercises. But I would like to publicly plead that, if you don't like a particular story, simply stop reading it. In the meantime, I'll follow my own counsel on what I write or read. So save your fingertips for writing the story how you'd like it.

* * *

Chapter Thirty-nine

Snug in each other's arms, exhausted from their rough and then gentle lovemaking, Ana is almost asleep when Christian suddenly excuses himself, sits up and reaches for his phone. Confused, because she hadn't heard it even vibrate to announce another call, Ana then hears a sound that has never come from his Blackberry before. "Did you just switch your phone on?"

A little sheepishly, Christian says, "Yeah."

Now utterly confused, Ana says, "But…you must have turned it off. Christian, you _never_ turn off your phone."

Still clearly embarrassed, he explains, "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm still relatively new to this having a lover thing."

Finally catching on, Ana guesses, "You intend to switch it off every time we have sex?"

"_Will_ turn it off, baby. I might forget for a while, so you have my permission to remind me…gently." With that almost too charming lop-sided grin, he points out, "Still dominant."

Knowing how much this concession will cost him; to trust that those in charge of his empire will cope while he's out of contact, Ana's heart swells with so much love that she's almost dizzy with it. And, despite his caution, she knows by now how far she can push him, so cheerfully commands, "Put the phone down and get back here."

His grin widening, a flare of passion in his eyes, Christian does as bid, enfolding Ana in his arms and asking, "You going to fuck me again?"

"Tempting. But my husband loves me very much and would prefer that I get enough sleep every night."

Kissing her forehead, Christian says, "Yes, he does. Sweet dreams, Adorable Ana."

One hand resting on his bare chest, Ana is again almost asleep when she practically purrs, "Night, my darling Dominant."

A groan and, "Fuck, Ana, how am I going to sleep after that?"

Barely able to summon the energy to giggle at his aroused outrage, Ana is asleep before she can think of a reply.

* * *

With the streets of York blanketed in snow overnight and debris from the storm littering roads and sidewalks alike, our travelers enjoy a leisurely start to their day. When Christian is sure that it's safe, he leads Ana, Carla and Lea to nearby York Minster; that masterpiece of Gothic architecture that, even today, contains the largest expanse of medieval stained glass in the world. Their guided tour of the ancient building – including the undercroft and a trek up the central tower for stunning views of the suddenly snowy city – finishes in the spectacular nave.

Carla, already deeply affected by this stone and glass celebration of worship, grips Ana's arm for physical or emotional support when a visiting choir spontaneously breaks into song: _non nobis, Domine_. Not even the hostile weather has kept the cathedral from filling with awed pilgrims and rowdy tourists alike, but they all fall silent and stand in rapt attention as the harmonic voices celebrate their connection with the divine. When they're done, there's a hush, until one brave person expresses their joy with polite applause, soon joined by everyone within earshot.

Suddenly struck by inspiration, Ana taps Christian's arm twice and instructs, "Wait here."

His forehead creased in confusion, but the corners of his mouth lifting in a quiet smile, he says, "Okay, baby."

"What's she up to now?"

Turning his smile on Carla, he replies, "Hey, she's your daughter. I've no idea." He watches Ana approach the choir and say something to the conductor. "But I have a feeling it's for our benefit. She's the most generous person I know."

Eyeing her son-in-law with bemused respect, Carla reveals, "Funny; she says the same thing about you."

Christian inwardly curses the tell-tale reddening of his ears at this praise when he says, "Well, she inspires that in me."

Apparently enjoying his discomfort, Carla smiles and says, "Oh, I suspect it was already there."

"Next subject, please."

Thankfully, he's saved by Ana's return, and she tells Christian, "They couldn't do the one I want, but the next one is for you." Smiling at her mom, she adds, "Though I think you'll like it, too."

Christian has an idea what she might have requested, but keeps silent, encouraging Ana into his arms, then turning her to face the choir, his arms encircling her and their joined hands resting over their son. Seconds after the melodious voices again fill the massive room, he kisses her cheek and whispers, "Thomas Tallis. Thank you, baby."

This time, when the singers conclude, there is no hesitation to the applause. They accept graciously, making it clear that the unscheduled show is over. Carla is shaking her head slightly and asks Christian, "So, you're not religious, but you're a fan of hymns?"

With eyes only for his wife, Christian says, "Even atheists can appreciate great beauty."

Carla breathes a laugh and says, "Good answer."

Ana can't resist kissing a justifiably smug Christian, and agrees, "Yes, it is."

* * *

That evening, Christian exits the bathroom to find Ana chatting on her phone, animatedly discussing the details of their day exploring York. On seeing him, she mouths, "Ann." When he nods and offers a cursory wave, she relates, "Christian says hello." Then she giggles and quotes, "Hello back."

Still concerned about the rubber recycling plant, he grabs his computer and kisses the top of her head before quietly explaining, "Work. I'll be downstairs."

"Hang on, Ann." Covering the phone with her hands, Ana says, "Then I think a proper kiss is in order."

Smiling at her temerity, Christian kisses Ana well enough that he knows she'll be turned on, then brushes his nose against hers before straightening and saying, "Be careful what you wish for."

Having to leave Ana while his cock is straining to get out of his jeans is made worthwhile when he hears her stammering some red-faced explanation to her great-aunt as he shuts the door.

Finally satisfied that the plant is back on track, Christian packs up and returns to the suite. Ana is already in bed, though it's relatively early, and she's left a lamp on for him. He can tell from her breathing that she's awake, so he quickly sheds his clothes and climbs in beside her. She turns into his arms as if he'd ordered it. Just in case she's not in bed at this hour because she's horny, he asks, "Tired, baby?"

She hesitates long enough that he's sure she's not in the mood to fuck, and then says, "Not really." Her eyes are clear, and her cheeks are dry. But, when Ana lifts her face to his for a long, tender kiss, he knows and says, "You've been crying." When she tenses in surprise, he gently continues, "Your lips are softer than usual. What's wrong, baby? Is Ann okay?"

With a profound sigh, Ana snuggles into him and reveals, "No worse than usual. I just…it really hurts that I'll never see her again."

She hasn't asked, and somehow he knows that she never would, for fear of disappointing him. He considers for a moment the time and expense he's put into planning the perfect vacation, but only for a moment; she's all that matters. "Would you rather just spend the rest of our time with her?"

Ana's quiet for a long time, and he only knows that she's been holding her breath for the duration when she suddenly gasps for air, then whispers, "You'd do that?"

Shuffling a little so that he can tilt her gaze to his, he reaffirms, "_Anything_, Anastasia. I'll do anything for you. If being with your family is what you need, then I'll make that happen."

He knows that she's seriously considering it when she unconsciously bites her lip. Thinking of work to distract his need for her, Christian waits until Ana finally releases her slightly swollen bottom lip and asks, "What about Mom?"

"You mom is here for _you_, baby, and she also loves Ann. She'll comply." With a fierce grin, he adds, "Or she'll answer to me."

It seems that Ana's decided; her face lights up at the idea of seeing her newfound family again. But then she nestles back against his chest, her face and thoughts hidden from him, and eventually says, "You've put so much effort into this trip."

"Only because, at the time, I thought it's what you'd like. We can do the tourist thing next time. But you know that Ann…."

He doesn't need to finish that sentence. They both know that the cancer is in Ann Lambert's blood; now unresponsive to treatments, only regular transfusions keeping her symptoms at bay. This time he doesn't need to distract himself; remembering that not even his billions will keep the remarkable woman alive much longer definitely dampens his ardor. He's still lost in thought when Ana quietly says, "Yes, please."

"Look at me." When she's complied, and Christian can see the sincerity in her eyes, he decides to lighten the mood, so she'll know he's okay with her decision. "You'd rather hang out with some old woman than visit Stratford-upon-Avon and follow in Shakespeare's footsteps, ending with a live performance at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre?"

Her eyes widen with delight at his description, but then she repeats, "Yes, please."

Hoping she'll realize he's teasing, he asks, "You don't want to visit Hay-on-Wye, known as 'the town of books'?"

With a grimace, Ana squeaks, "No."

Despite her apparent anguish, Christian can see the light returning to her eyes, so he continues with the game, "Not Bristol, Bath, Winchester and Chawton; places important to Jane Austen?"

Beginning to smile now, Ana shakes her head and says, "Uh, uh."

"Not Agatha Christie's house in Devon? Stonehenge? Canterbury and Kent; the Garden of England? The Sherlock Holmes Museum at 221b Backer Street? The Poet's Corner of Westminster Abbey? The Charles Dickens Museum? The Globe Theatre?" All of these are met with a smiling but negative shake of Ana's head. Saving the best for last, Christian grins and asks, "Not the British Library?"

That draws a groan of pain from Ana and she begs, "We'll come back?"

Unable to stop a breath of laughter at her minor distress, he hugs her a little tighter and promises, "Yes, baby. So, you're sure?"

"I'm sure. Family is what's important, right?"

Resting a hand on her belly, Christian kisses her and vows, "Family is everything."

* * *

What Ann Lambert had described as "the family home in Suffolk" turns out to be a stunning mansion by a lake, on a rambling estate of horse yards, meadows and woodland. In awe of the sight, as they approach, and having verified that they're at the correct address, a dazed Ana asks, "Mom, did you know your in-laws are rich?"

Also in a state of shock, Carla shakes her head and reveals, "Frank said something about his dad coming from money, but I had no idea." Then looking to Christian, she asks, "Are you sure it's all right for us to stay here?"

Grinning, Christian explains, "Ann insisted. She refused to consider any alternative when she and her few house guests are, and I quote, 'rattling around in this musty old place'. I only managed to dissuade her last week because I specifically wanted to start in Thetford, the home of your ancestors." One eyebrow raised, he teases Ana, "It seems that your stubbornness is inherited from your father's side."

Carla laughs and says, "Well, that's certainly true; though he was taken from me too soon, we had time for some fine arguments."

Still smiling, Christian postulates, "Wouldn't that mean you're both stubborn?"

Carla is opening her mouth to reply when Ana interrupts, "At times like this, I find a simple 'no comment' is best, Mom."

Her eyes sparkling with good humor, Carla tells Christian, "No comment."

After an emotional reunion with Ann Lambert, Jerry and a few other familiar faces, then an introduction – over a lavish afternoon tea – to friends who apparently also live in Elspeth Hall, Ana and Christian take a tour of the grounds, accompanied only by Nigel. Though the nationwide blizzard has abated, there's fresh snow on the ground and the air is bitterly cold, so it's not ideal circumstances for a stroll. Still, after spending most of the day travelling from York, Ana brightly comments, "Good to use our legs, isn't it?"

"It is." Glancing back at Nigel, he receives an eager nod when he more loudly adds, "Might go for a run before dinner." Returning his attention to Ana, he asks, "Feel good about deciding to come here?"

Smiling, so he'll know she's in earnest, Ana says, "I do, thank you. I didn't realize just how much I was missing Ann until we got here. She looks pretty good today; probably because of her grease and oil change, yesterday."

"Sorry?"

"Oh, the transfusions; that's what she calls them."

Christian smiles at that, and they're silent for a while, then he softly confesses, "When Ann…when she's gone, I'm going to need your help."

Suddenly understanding why, Ana gasps at the enormity of it, and guesses, "No one you care about has died since…." Unable to mention his birth mother, in this context, she instead asks, "Not even grandparents?" When Christian only shakes his head – distress rolling off him in waves – Ana suggests, "Do we need to call Flynn?"

Taking a calming breath, Christian shakes his head. "No. I will, when the time comes. He's aware of the situation. But I just thought you might need a heads-up, because you'll be grieving, too. But you've had a little more practice than I have, and…I mean, I'll try, obviously, to be a source of comfort, but I cannot know if I'll be up to the task."

Grateful that he's now able to relatively calmly discuss matters that he can only see as a weakness or failing, Ana silently vows to go easy on him, and says only, "Okay."

"Okay?" Exasperated, he continues, "Can you give me a little more idea as to how you feel about this? You know this shit still isn't easy for me."

She does. Bringing them both to a halt, Ana takes their joined hands and places his palm against her upper chest, even as she mirrors the gesture over his heart, and says, "Okay; I understand why you're afraid of maybe letting me down. But you cannot, because you are still the bravest person I've ever met, and just knowing you inspires courage in me. When the time comes, we'll comfort each other." When Christian's frown disappears, to be replaced by the joyful, boyish grin that she would do anything for, Ana leans close and whispers, "You kind of wanna fuck me right now, don't you?"

His smile widening at what has become a private joke between them, Christian says, "Always. But it's too fucking cold out here. I'll fuck you in the comfort of our antique bed."

But his plans are unknowingly thwarted by their hostess. Eager to again share Ana with her relatives, the matriarch has put out the word, far and wide, and the empty rooms of the mansion begin filling even before dinner is served on this chilly Friday evening. Reunited with her family, Ana doesn't retire until she's so exhausted that Christian has to sternly say, "Time for bed. They'll be here in the morning."

Ana wearily nods and bids everyone goodnight. She's actually leaning on Christian as they climb the stairs to their room – she'd been both pleased and embarrassed to find that it was deliberately distanced from others – and he suddenly lifts her in his arms, still easily able to carry her and their growing baby. Letting her feet touch the floor only so she can pee, he guides her to the bed and tenderly removes her clothes before helping her into an oversized t-shirt. He's pulling back the covers when she remembers, "Teeth…haven't brushed."

"Just for tonight, you can skip it."

Snug under the covers, Ana suddenly realizes that he's made no move to join her. "Not tired?" Her sleep-fogged brain then catching up, she says, "Oh; too many affectionate people. You'll take Nigel?"

"Yes, baby. And I won't be too long. Just need to run off the day."

Apparently now at ease even with this side of him, though it had often upset her early in their marriage – too often seeming like he was running away from issues – And finds the comfiest spot in the bed and begs, "Wake me when you get back?"

Smoothing hair from her face, so he can kiss her cheek, Christian promises, "It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Grey."

"Mmm…mine, too."

* * *

Ana wakes on Saturday morning to bedlam; she can hear the happy squeals of children outside her window, large machinery is roaring to life nearby, someone is pounding on the door, Christian is nowhere in sight, and it takes her several seconds to recall where she is. By then, the door has burst open, revealing Pru, apparently dressed as a Friesian cow, complete with horned hood, her headlong charge halted by Nigel's iron grip on her shoulder. "Babe, would you call off your bulldog? It's just me."

"Uh, that's fine. Thank you, Nigel. Where's Christian?"

Nigel releases his captive as he explains "Gone for a run, ma'am," just as Pru shrugs and says, "No fucking idea."

It takes everything Ana has to stifle her giggle when Nigel glares his disapproval of the comment, even as he grabs the door handle to leave them alone. Pru bounds towards Ana and leaps onto the bed, landing on her knees and exclaiming, "I can't believe you fucking cancelled your trip to come here! We're going to have so much fun! I had to pull double shifts the last couple of days, so I could take the weekend off, and I've had like three hours sleep, because I didn't get here until almost dawn. But I'm all yours until you have to leave on Saturday. You have no idea, Ana; I know all the best spots around here. Oh, and we simply must flit up to London for a night or two…do you think Christian would be okay with me kidnapping you? I know he's kind of possessive, but I'm not going to get you drunk or anything…. Ana?"

Realizing that she's been staring in slack-jawed shock this entire time, Ana shakes her head and says, "Sorry. But…you're a talking cow."

Laughing, Pru pushes the hood back from her head and says, "Well, I'm always being called 'cow', so I thought that I might as well dress like one. So, what do you think?"

Still in a daze, Ana says, "Uh, I think that I'd like a cup of tea before I make any decisions, and then you'll probably have to repeat everything you just said, Daisy."

Pru lightly punches Ana's arm and says, "Daisy…good one. Come on, get out of bed and come downstairs. Just throw on a dressing gown. Nan doesn't care what we wear to breakfast, but for dinner…well, she calls it 'supper', she insists on smart-casual and decent shoes."

Finally waking up a little, Ana points out, "Or, in your case, hooves."

Her face lights up and Pru throws herself into an awkward hug before just as quickly leaping up as she says, "I'm so glad you're here. I'll see you downstairs."

"Wait!" When Pru turns and snaps to attention, Ana asks, "Why are you dressed like a cow? Who is _Nan_…is that Ann? And what double shifts? You work at Go Ape, right? But they're closed for winter."

Pru holds up a hand to tick off her answers, "It's a onesie; you simply must get some. Yes, Ann has been 'Nan' for as long as I can remember, though I like to call her Ann-tique…don't look at me like that; she loves it. During the winter, and when things are slow in the forest, I work at a pub…oh, we must go there, too. Was that it?"

Thinking that Pru's energy levels would give even Mia a run for her money, Ana relaxes and says, "Yes, thank you." Then she smiles, truly meaning it when she says, "I'm glad I'm here, too."

By the time Ana is downstairs enjoying a modest version of the English breakfast, served by a genuine butler, a deliciously sweaty Christian breezes in, looking downright edible, with an exhausted Lea close behind. He brightly greets everyone, passionately kisses Ana, murmurs "You wouldn't wake up, so I put in eight miles," and is gone.

There's a heavy silence at the table for a few seconds after he's gone, then Pru exclaims, "Fuck me! Was he that good-looking last weekend?"

"Prudence! Language."

"Sorry, Nan. But, come on, he's sex on a stick."

It's too much, and Ana erupts in a fit of laughter, finally calming down enough to say, "I'm sorry, Pru, it's just…I'm not used to hearing livestock speak like that."

This sets everyone off, until they eventually settle down enough to finish their meal, returning to less provocative conversation. Eager to see Christian, Ana then excuses herself, and is forced to leave the room blushing when Pru mimes reaching into a pocket and holds out her hand, asking, "Earplugs, anyone?"

"Prudence!"

Shaking her head at Pru's cheekiness, which would rival even Kate's perpetual teasing, Ana climbs the stairs with Nigel, surprised to find the door unmanned. "Uh, if I'm staying in for a while, will you be able to go have breakfast?"

"I ate earlier, ma'am." Suddenly grinning, Nigel says, "But I can always eat more. You'll tell me if you're planning to go out?"

"I promise." Surprised, when he merely informally salutes her and leaves, Ana guesses that he must have been in communication with Lea during breakfast, and is glad that Christian seems to have relaxed security a little. Opening the door, she sees why; he's naked on the bed, apparently fresh from the shower, reclining against the many pillows, his half-mast erection growing at the sight of her as he demands, "What the fuck took you so long?"

Ana giggles and starts stripping as she says, "Sorry, darling. I didn't know dessert was waiting for me."

She's almost to him when he instructs, "Lock the door, baby."

Waving a hand in dismissal, Ana says, "Don't worry. Pru is handing out imaginary earplugs downstairs. _No_ _one_ is knocking on this door, believe me. Shocking a thought as it may be, I think she was actually a little shy and retiring when we first met her, because she's a slightly vulgar replica of your sister now. I can barely keep up when she speaks."

Resting his hands on her hips as she mounts him – sliding down the length of him and sighing her approval as their bodies join – Christian also sighs and comments, "Another Mia? That's a horrifying thought. Still, maybe there's something to be said for people knowing about our sex life."

"That's because you weren't at breakfast to hear your cousin call your husband 'sex on a stick' and see the look of frank admiration in your great-aunt's eyes."

Christian practically guffaws at this, seriously messing with Ana's concentration when the effects are felt _inside_ her. Eventually, he calms down and says, "Sorry, baby. But…seriously, Ann, too?" Then ogling her, his hands gliding up her ribs to cover her breasts, he jokes, "And, from where I sit, _you're_ sex on a stick." This last accompanied by a deliberate flexing of his penis, still deep inside her.

Ana groans and says, "Yes, Ann, too. She's confined to a wheelchair, but she's still got a pulse." Too late, she realizes what she's said, and is filled with something like grief when she again remembers that "Nan" won't be around much longer.

Sensing her disquiet, Christian cradles her to him as best he can, caressing her hair and back as he says, "Hey, it's okay. Let's have fun while we're here, okay?"

He's right. The reason she cancelled her dream vacation is to enjoy Ann's company while she can. Gasping a few times to forestall her premature tears, she mumbles against his neck, "I'm okay. Thank you."

Lifting her gaze to his with hands cradled either side of her face, Christian's expression is one of aching concern when he asks, "Rather fuck later, baby?"

Banishing the last traces of her melancholy, Ana sits up, leans back a little to grip his thighs and commands, "Make me forget my troubles, Mr. Grey."

As always, eager for any challenge, Christian offers an intent, salacious grin and does just that.

* * *

Where credit's due: To AriadneInNaxos, for generously sharing her experience of York Minster. Sorry, they didn't get to try a "Fat Rascal";-)

"If ye love me" by Thomas Tallis is the second song. Can you guess what Ana requested, but would have been politely informed that it's simply too much for a small choir to manage, especially without rehearsal?

"Elspeth Hall" is, I think, made up. I could only find reference to it as a woman's name. So, if you do find an estate of that name, it's not that one.

Their itinerary was a mix of several sites, but the one I used the most was Operation Europe, the tour being English Literature Tour. That's the extent of my knowledge, as I've never been to the UK.


	40. Chapter 40

Author's note: Remember (from my story, not the books) the Polaroid of Christian beaten and collared at Elena's feet; that he kept in a locked drawer inside his playroom? Good.

* * *

Chapter Forty

Ana is with Christian that afternoon when he receives the phone call that threatens their almost perfect world. With the winter weather again making venturing outdoors an unattractive prospect, the temporary and permanent residents of Elspeth Hall are entertaining themselves as best they can; board games, TV, reading, the children even enjoying a safe version of cricket in one of the huge corridors. With the estate isolated from the outside world by high fences and locked gates, even Lea and Nigel have some free time. Ana is thoroughly trouncing Christian, Ann and Jerry at Scrabble when they all hear Christian's phone vibrate. With an apologetic grin, he checks the screen and says, "Sorry, but I'd better take this. Baby, would you play for me?" Standing and giving Ana a quick kiss on the forehead as he does so, he explains "Reynolds," before grabbing his jacket and heading outside.

Curious, but not very worried, Ana explains, "Our temporary senior security officer back home."

"Oh. I hope everything is okay."

"Me, too." Forcing a smile, Ana says, "Let's play, shall we?"

They manage to ignore the potential for drama implied by the phone call. But, only a couple of minutes later, clearly hear Christian shout, from outside, "What the fuck do you mean, you have no idea how they got in?"

Now truly concerned, Ana stammers, "Uh, I'd better go see what's wrong."

"Of course, dear. Don't worry about us. Grab any of the coats by the door."

Jerry offers a smile and says, "Might have a chance of winning now, anyway."

After thanking them, Ana dons a long, woolen coat on the way out and finds Christian pacing up and down the driveway, apparently oblivious of the light rainfall; his breath misting in the cold air, as if he's actually angry enough to breathe fire when he yells, "I don't give a fuck what the cops say; get our own people on this. I want to know what the fuck happened."

Knowing him well enough to approach from the side, so he can see her, Ana dares to put a hand on his forearm and ask, "Baby, what's wrong?"

Shrugging away from her touch, confirming that he's _very_ upset, Christian more moderately concludes "Just get me some fucking answers," before pulling the phone away from his ear to start dialing as he explains, "Break-in at Escala. They didn't fucking get very far, though. Unfortunately, the fucker also made a clean getaway."

"Oh, God…it was empty, right?"

Finally seeming to truly register her presence, Christian reassuringly rubs her arm and says, "Yes, baby. Everyone is fine." His face then twisting into an expression of pure rage, he hisses "It's fucking Elena. I warned her. I'll fucking destroy her for this."

He again returns his attention to his Blackberry. Daring what no one else could, Ana puts her hand over the phone, saying, "Darling, you can't call her. And your bellowing is audible inside."

His fury at her interruption vanishing as quickly as it appeared, Christian visibly struggles towards calmness and says, "I won't talk to her directly, baby, I promise. I just need her up-to-date financial details. We currently own her scrawny ass, and I'm going to call in all markers…today, if possible. She'll have to declare bankruptcy."

Horrified at this level of swift and efficient vengeance, for merely a hunch, Ana says, "Christian, you know I hold no love for that woman, but you can't do that. You don't know that she actually arranged this."

"I do, baby. Trust me on this."

Something about the certainty of his reply clues her in and Ana feels almost nauseous with worry when she asks, "_How_ do you know?"

Suddenly chagrined, Christian confesses, "I, uh…that night, the last time I saw her, I threatened her with ruin if she ever came after you or anyone in our family; finishing with the revelation that I have a piece of evidence that could even put her in prison for fucking an adolescent."

The bile actually rising in her throat, Ana grimaces and reflexively swallows before saying, "The Polaroid."

His face now expressing only concern, Christian warily says, "Yes. I don't know that it actually would have put her away, as she was careful to keep her face out of it, but she couldn't take that risk." With a shrug, he reveals, "I destroyed it that day we talked about it, but she couldn't have known that. She knows me well enough to guess where it must have been hidden. What she didn't realize, because a relationship like you and I have is beyond her, is that I beefed up internal security at our apartment the very week you moved in. The poor bastard who was doing her dirty work probably thought he was set, with Elena no doubt providing detailed information. But he never stood a chance. He would have tripped the silent alarm seconds after gaining entry; motion detectors running off an independent power source."

Silently digesting all this information for a while, Ana finally says, "Okay, but you still can't ruin her, even if she did this."

His jaw set in a stubborn line, Christian says, "Babe, you need to let me take care of this…take care of _us_. Elena understands punishment. Fuck, she's the one who taught me. If I don't retaliate, she'll think me weak and maybe come after us in some other way."

Praying that he'll understand, Ana asks, "What does Elena want?"

"Fuck; money…power even more so, I guess. She likes to fuck with people's minds and make them act apparently out of character. It gives her some sort of sick pleasure and – "

"You, darling. Elena wants _you_."

Clearly confused, Christian says, "Baby, I swear to you, I haven't fucked her in several years; haven't even communicated with her in months. There is nothing left between us."

Her hands actually clenched together with the force of her need to make him see the truth, Ana calmly explains, "I know you believe that. But your appraisal of Elena's motives is still clouded by your longstanding and intimate relationship with her."

Back to irate, almost making Ana dizzy with the speed of it, Christian angrily demands, "Why the fuck do you suddenly sound like Flynn?"

Swallowing her fear of his lightning fast mood changes – chillingly close to what she remembers from the early days – Ana quietly reveals, "Yes, I've discussed this with John, but without disclosing her name. I feel, and John agrees, that Elena is addicted to you…that, in a way, you honestly are special to her, but only in that she feels a sense of ownership where you're concerned, and gets a perverse gratification from making you lose control."

His brow crinkling in confusion, Christian proves that he's at least willing to listen when he says, "Baby, she taught me about control."

"Control like right now; pacing in the snow and yelling at a trusted employee?"

Glancing around at the sparsely falling flakes, as if noticing them for the first time, Christian says, "Okay, I'll give you that one. But I _will_ be calm when I bankrupt her, believe me." Grabbing her elbow in a firm but gentle grip, he drags her back under the portico as he continues, "Right now, you and Junior need to get back inside, where it's warm."

Wresting her arm from his grasp, Ana puts a little distance between them and says, "We're warm enough, and I'm not going anywhere until you calm down and we discuss this."

Frustration and anger evident in even his stance, Christian argues, "Baby, I hear what you're saying, and maybe there's something in it. But nobody understands Elena like I do. If there are no consequences, she'll try something else, just to see if she can get away with that, too. I'm as certain as I can get that, if she'd succeeded, she'd currently have photos of the playroom or similar ammunition that she could use to prevent any retaliation on my part. But, when her lackey gets word back to her that they've failed, she'll be expecting the hammer to fall; trust me on this.

_Please, baby, please. _"Then let's do something she's _not_ expecting."

Staring at Ana's outstretched palm as if it's something new, even something to be wary of, Christian's face registers a myriad of emotions before he finishes dialing, lifts the phone to his ear and barks, "I'm going to hand you over to Ana. Give her anything she asks for, and follow her instructions to the letter…yes, fucking everything; full access." Then he hands over the phone, much more quietly explaining "Welch. He knows everything. Don't be fucking long," before again kissing her forehead and heading inside.

Stunned, Ana lifts the phone to her ear and stammers, "Uh, Mr. Welch?"

"Just 'Welch' is fine, ma'am."

"Uh, thank you; Welch. And please call me Ana."

"All right, Ana. In that case, my first name is Rodney…Rod. What can I do for you? I presume this is about the breech at Escala?"

"Uh, yes. Christian thinks…he seems certain that Elena Lincoln was behind it?"

After several seconds, Welch says, "It's possible…maybe even probable. But there's currently nothing to suggest that. The perpetrator was able to enter and leave unseen, and doesn't appear to have left fingerprints or other trace. They seemingly abandoned their mission almost immediately; presumably when they noticed the additional security measures. It's definitely a professional; a good one, too. As yet, we haven't even determined their point of ingress, though we presume that it was the same way they retreated; the service elevator in the parking garage." Ana feels a stab of cold fear to her gut at the thought that she's often used that very elevator. "We'll be monitoring the official investigation and running our own, but both may well come up empty." As if he's somehow able to read her mind, he concludes, "Don't worry, ma'am; all trace of this intrusion will be removed by the time you return."

"Thank you." Finally feeling somewhat at ease in her new, self-appointed role as family protector, Ana asks, "You have access to Ms. Lincoln's financial details?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And you have some idea what a professional would charge for a job like this?"

Admiration in his tone, Welch says, "That's a good thought, ma'am. I was just about to follow that line of investigation, though even that may yield nothing useful. Want me to call you back on this number if and when I find something?"

Somehow certain that he already has her details, Ana says, "No. Call my cell. I'll update Christian as we proceed."

She can hear him tapping away at a computer keyboard and Welch concludes, "Not a problem. I'll call you soon."

"Thank you, Rod. And, thank you, for not treating me like an idiot."

Welch chuckles and says, "Not that I'd dare, Ana. But nothing you've done in your life suggests you're anything other than a very smart young woman."

A little uncomfortable with this reminder that their head of security knows every documented detail of her past, Ana suddenly remembers something and asks, "Oh, Rod, does Christian…is one of your duties to monitor Ms. Lincoln for…evidence of impropriety?"

He's again silent for several seconds, and Ana wonders if she's crossed some line. But then Welch grinds out, "If you mean, have I been ordered to watch for adolescent boys entering or leaving her home; yes, ma'am. So far, nothing. Her current lover is twenty-six years old."

Incredibly relieved – Ana had presumed Christian would have made sure that no one endures what he did at Elena's hand, but had never been game to ask him, just in case the answer was no – she sighs and says, "Thank you, Rod. You've no idea how glad I am to hear that. Oh, can you not tell Christian that I asked about this?"

"You got it, ma'am. You heard him say that I'm to follow your orders?"

"Oh, of course. Well, thanks. You'll call me soon?"

"Yes, ma'am. Shouldn't take very long. I've been scanning bank records as we speak."

Laughing her profound relief that what started with Christian in a rage has ended so well, Ana says, "I can see why he relies on you so much. Bye, for now."

"Bye, ma'am. Oh, tell him that I'd be quite content to deal only with you in the future."

Ana giggles again at this, suddenly understanding that, despite appearances, Welch and Christian have established something like friendship in the years they've been working together. "I'll tell him."

Inside, the Scrabble game continues, or another one; she's beyond caring. Ana hangs up the coat, returns Christian's phone with a tender kiss, ignoring the question in his eyes, and explains to Ann, "If you'll excuse us, Christian and I need to discuss security procedures." Then including Jerry in her gaze, she smiles and says, "We'll see you at supper?"

Of course, only Jerry stands as they all say adieu. A still bewildered Christian is led away and asks, when they're out of earshot, "You going to tell me what the fuck you and Welch discussed?"

"I am. After I fuck you."

"Oh. Uh, not that I'm complaining, but any particular reason? If you say 'Welch' I'll fucking kill him."

Ana giggles and says, "No, darling. Though Rod was polite and efficient, he doesn't do it for me. My preferred type is an incredibly bossy, exhaustingly volatile, undeniably troubled man-child with more issues than Kavanagh Media; someone whom I can trust, and who likewise trusts me."

Christian also laughs and says, "Sounds like a real catch. You're a lucky woman."

Finally at their bedroom door, Ana opens it and gestures that Christian should precede her, "Yes, I am."

* * *

They're dressing for supper when Welch calls Ana. "Found what we're looking for; Ms. Lincoln was foolish enough to transfer money into the account of a convicted felon."

"What was the felony?"

"Residential burglary. He did three years over a decade ago, but has evaded detection since, unless he's clean."

"But you think he's dirty; that he did this?"

"I'd bet my Mariners tickets on it."

"We can't prove it without breaking the law?"

"Technically, I've already done so, ma'am, just gathering this intel."

"Oh, did not know that. I'm new to this covert stuff."

Welch chuckles and says, "Yes, ma'am. You're doing fine. May I make a suggestion?"

"Please."

"We squeeze her; make her hurt, financially. She'll know why."

"Yeah, Christian says that, too. But he wanted to actually ruin her."

Though he's remained quietly vigilant nearby, Christian then loudly interjects, "_Do_ want to ruin her. I'm right about this."

They've discussed her plans, at length, and he'd reluctantly agreed on the understanding that she keep him in the loop, and permit his presence for the next stage. Ignoring the interruption, except to level a mock glare in his direction, Ana asks Rod, "How soon can you organize the squeezing?"

"If you want it to happen all at once; tomorrow. A few of her less…official backers can be relied on to contact her today."

"Tomorrow is soon enough; let's save the kneecap breakers in case she tries this again. Let me know when it's done."

"You got it. Did you tell him?"

Ana giggles and says, "Yes. I'm not going to repeat the term he used for you, but I'm sure you have a pretty good idea."

Christian grins and mutters, "Fucking pussy."

"It's okay, ma'am, I heard that. It's truly a pleasure dealing with such a well-mannered person as yourself, ma'am…for a change."

Ana laughs again and says, "I'll tell him that, too. Thanks, Rod." After hanging up, she asks, "He's military?"

"Ex. You can tell?"

"Yeah. He reminds me of Dad. I like him."

For once, not reacting with jealousy, Christian says, "Just as well, if you're going to deal with this sort of thing from now on."

"Oh, I'm content to let you and Rod deal with everything else; just not…you know who."

With a grim smile, Christian says, "You're about to call her; might as well use her name."

Her heart hammering at the enormity of what she's about to attempt, Ana swallows past the sudden dryness in her throat and is amazed that her voice holds steady when she pronounces, "Elena fucking Lincoln."

Beaming his pride at this vitriolic statement, Christian kisses her and says, "That's my girl. You sure you're up for this?"

His support somehow making the impossible seem possible, Ana nods and holds out her hand for his phone, saying, "I am, if you're here." Accepting the phone, she adds, "Are you sure you can keep quiet for the duration? This won't work if she knows you're here."

Guiding them both to sit on the bed, Christian takes Ana's free hand, entwining his fingers in hers and says, "I can do it. If I reach for the phone, it's because I'm about to silently hang up on her, okay?"

"Okay. I can live with that. She'll just assume it was me." Taking a deep steadying breath, she looks at his Blackberry; the small, black device suddenly appearing dangerous, and asks, "Contacts?"

Blushing at the oversight, Christian takes the phone from her, saying, "No longer." Quickly dialing the number, he hands it back saying, "Forgot, sorry."

Buoyed by the knowledge that he respected her wishes enough to even remove all trace of Elena from his phone, Ana is actually feeling confident as she puts the phone to her ear. But that all disappears when the voice that sends countless insects crawling under her skin and angry butterflies roiling in her stomach, purrs, "Darling! What an unexpected pleasure."

Ana still hasn't spoken when Christian reassuringly squeezes her hand. "Not exactly, Elena. It's Ana…Ana Grey."

She has fun imagining all the curse words that must run through Elena's head in the ensuing silence…that seems to go on for a very long time. Then is almost impressed with the lack of emotion in her adversary's voice when Elena says, "Of course; Christian's little thing. What can I do for you, dear?"

_Curl up your toes and die! _"This is just a courtesy call, Elena. It seems only fair to let you know why you're being punished, though I presume you would have worked it out, eventually."

Another heavy silence and Elena somehow manages to almost convey innocence when she says, "I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart."

Every fake term of endearment turns Ana's stomach, but she won't be thwarted now, so pushes the nausea back down and says, "It's all right, _sweetheart, _I don't expect you to admit it. And this call is not an attempt to trap you. It's enough that I know what you did. By this time tomorrow you will have a _lot_ less funds at your disposal. You obviously have too much cash spare, to even _attempt_ something like this." Now on a roll, Ana notices that she's actually sitting up straighter as she channels CEO Christian and vows, "If you _ever_ try something like this again, I will call in all markers and bankrupt your scrawny ass. You'll be ruined. And, Elena, if I have cause to ruin you, I'll make sure you stay that way."

Finally permitting, or no longer able to keep the anger from her voice, Elena snarls, "Put Christian on the phone! I need to speak to him."

Again, that reassuring pressure on her hand. "Christian can't stand the thought of you, so asked me to handle this trifling matter. I borrowed his phone, because I knew you would pick up, but don't bother trying to call him; he won't return the favor. Goodbye, Elena."

Pleased with how it went, Ana is still not shocked to see that her hand is trembling as she hangs up and returns Christian's phone, grateful when he thinks to shut it down before putting it in a pocket and lifting her onto his lap. Safe in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, drawing comfort from him with a hand on his chest, she's mortified when she suddenly feels like weeping; unable to stop a sob as she struggles to contain her emotions. Christian soothes her with a gentle caress on her back and tenderly promises, "Just reaction, baby; let yourself cry. I'm okay. And you're fucking incredible."

Despite receiving this permission, or perhaps because of it, Ana is able to breathe through the shock and eventually calm down. "I'm okay, now. I don't need to cry."

Gently lifting her gaze to his, Christian's expression is pure love when he teases, "One day, you'll do as you're fucking told."

Proud of both of them for facing this threat, together, Ana smiles and jokes, "Not in your lifetime, Grey."

* * *

Where credit's due: "_Curl up your toes and die!_" is a shout out to the Facebook authors who have been so entertaining me with enticing ways for Elena Lincoln to meet her demise. Thank you.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter Forty-one

It had taken some doing, but Ana had eventually persuaded Christian to stay behind while she, Pru and a few other Lambert females hit London for a day and evening of fun and frivolity. He'd pouted and frowned, argued and pleaded, but ultimately been doomed to failure. Ana had listened, with gracious understanding, to all his objections (including, impressively, memorized violent crime and traffic fatality statistics), then – the night before this scheduled excursion – had put hands on hips and serenely said, "Instead of trying to bully me, your time would be better spent working out how you're going to cope while I'm gone."

Okay, some part of him had thrilled with pride that she could now stand up to him; that she no longer took responsibility for his anxiety. But he'd run an exasperated hand through his hair and bitched, "When I said that I wanted you to become more confident, I didn't mean with me."

Proving, yet again, that she understands him better than anyone else ever has, she'd ignored his residual fury to approach and rest both hands on his chest – knowing that he wouldn't be able to resist embracing her – then lovingly said, "Yes, you did."

Trying to capture the fading threads of his anger, to lend power to his demands, he'd said, "This will happen _only_ if Bree gives you a clean bill of health in the morning. Lea _and_ Nigel will accompany you. You'll keep your phone on and fucking check it every now and then, in case I'm anxious enough to text you. You won't let any of those fuckers persuade you to do anything that might endanger you or our baby. You _will_ have fun. And, right now, you'll let me tie you up and fuck you senseless."

She'd nodded her acceptance of all his conditions, then smiled at the last and said, "Mr. Grey, I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

The next morning, as the small convoy of vehicles gently rumbles a protest at being forced into life on such a cold morning – billowing their outrage in copious clouds of toxins – Christian is standing by the Range Rover talking to (lecturing) Pru. "Don't fucking interfere with Lea or Nigel. Do not even _think_ of offering Ana any alcohol. Have her back at a reasonable hour or I'll fucking come and get her; she needs her sleep right now. Oh, she gets dizzy if she doesn't eat regularly, and currently needs to pee almost every hour, so make sure you're never very far from clean toilets."

Rolling her eyes, Pru quips, "Want me to fucking hold her hand, too?"

As much as her attitude pisses him off, he knows that Pru really does care for Ana, so merely says, "Just fucking watch out for her, okay?"

Surprising him with a kiss on the cheek, Pru retreats inside the car as she says, "Yes, Mum."

He's still shaking his head, not one hundred percent certain that the young woman can be trusted, when Ana finally emerges from the house. Meeting her halfway, he takes the large and surprisingly heavy handbag from her shoulder as he says, "Thought maybe you'd changed your mind."

"Wishful thinking, darling?"

"Yeah, I guess so." At the immediate frown of concern on her face, he quietly reassures her, "I'm okay. And I _want_ you to have fun."

Ana laughs lightly, shaking her head a little as she says, "I don't remember even Mom being this worried about me…ever."

Glancing at the house, where Carla is most likely still in bed, Christian suppresses his disapproval of his mother-in-law's parenting skills – their so far brief stay at Elspeth Hall confirming that Carla cares first and foremost about herself – and guides Ana towards the Range Rover, saying only, "I guess not."

At the car, he returns the twins' nod of greeting, having already discussed what he expects from them. Ana warmly greets everyone, then lets Christian assist her into the seat, smiling as she then lifts her arms a little, encouraging him to attach her seatbelt. Once she's secure, his dick waking up at the evocative action, he farewells her with a gentle, lingering kiss and softly reminds her, "I love you, wife."

Gratified when her breath catches and her eyes mist up, he's slightly more carnally affected when she silkily commands, "Wait up for me."

He's about to shut the door when Pru demands, "Where's _my_ kiss?"

Somehow certain that she won't mind, he offers her his middle finger, instead. Laughing, Pru taps Nigel on the shoulder and commands, "Drive on, Jeeves."

Apparently unmoved by the order, or the nickname, Nigel calmly reminds her, "Seatbelt, ma'am."

Glad of this confirmation that Pru won't be running the show, Christian can still feel that all-too-familiar cold, dread hand clutching his heart as he shuts the door – silently reminding himself that the apparent finality of the gesture is merely a symptom – and blows Ana a kiss. Rolling his eyes when Pru also returns the gesture, he waves as they move off, hoping that they can't see his rising panic at doing so. He can't seem to make his legs work until the last car is out of sight, then heads inside to implement his plan: laps of the heated pool until he's exhausted, then throw himself into work, interspersed with more exercise if he feels an overwhelming urge to call Ana. And, of course, Flynn's private number, just in case.

So far, so good; he's made it to lunchtime without doing anything worse than constantly checking his phone for messages…an old symptom that has eased somewhat since Ana swept into his life and disproved everything he thought he knew about himself. With lunch being an informal affair, he's downstairs trying to make a club sandwich last a long time, chatting with the few others also helping themselves to the generous buffet, when a man breezes in – Christian's memory supplies "Thomas" – and asks, "Anyone seen Lucy?"

A few glances and someone says, "Nah, Tom. Not with the other kids?"

His frown increasing, Tom looks around, saying, "No." Then shrugging off his fear, he says, "Oh, well; I'll check the library."

That cold dread again settling on him, Christian remembers a scene now familiar from the past few days – children ice-skating on the frozen lake, under adult supervision – and asks, "Where are her skates?"

Tom's eyes widen with fear before he rushes to the nearest window and hisses "Fuck," before dashing out the door. Even with that head start, Christian easily catches him – the thunder of many footsteps behind them – and is by Tom's shoulder when they both see the small figure fall through the too-thin ice in the center of the lake; exactly _why_ the children had always been supervised, expressly forbidden to even approach the water without an adult.

Unable to do anything about the abject terror in the poor man's voice when Tom screams his daughter's name, Christian puts on a burst of speed and throws himself into a headlong slide onto the ice, idly wondering how much damage it's doing when sharp pain reveals that the surface only looks smooth. Even with the precaution of spreading out his body weight, his much greater bulk means that he crashes through the surface before reaching Lucy; time only for a shocked gasp before he's plunged into the near freezing water. By the time he surfaces, it's to find that someone thought to throw one end of a rope in his general direction. Without looking back at the loud cacophony of instructions behind him, he grabs it and charges towards the child, easily forging a path through the now thin ice. The shallow water means that he can just keep his head above water. Lucy, however, is not so lucky and is thrashing about while screaming her distress, trying desperately to climb out and occasionally disappearing, nearly stopping Christian's heart every time.

Finally almost to her, horrified to see that her movements are already slowing, though her anguished cries continue unabated, he says, "Hey, Aunt Lucy; it's Christian, remember? Just relax, sweetheart. I'm going to tie this rope under your armpits and then Daddy will pull you out, okay?"

Her eyes wide with terror, the child calms down a little and treads water as she sobs, "O…Okay."

Deftly knotting the rope around her midriff, despite the fact that his hands are already numb, he lifts her onto the ice and pushes her away from him, with the stammered instruction, "J…just lie flat, Lucy. You're about to go for a ride." With as many people as could fit on the other end of the rope, she practically flies to safety and is whisked towards the house in her father's arms.

Now unable to stop shivering, the rictus of his cramped jaw rapidly causing a headache, Christian staggers towards the crowded shore until – it seems an eternity later – a rope slaps across his shoulder. He wraps it a few times around one wrist, then holds on and braces in readiness as he nods. But, with no one to lift him up out of the water, all that happens is more ice breaks when they pull on the rope, so he stumbles forward, almost falling under again. This pattern seems to go on forever, and the blackness is closing in, when many hands grab him and simply haul him onto firm ice. He's barely conscious as they carry him inside, only aware enough to feebly struggle and mutter "Don't touch me," as they start manhandling him to remove his sodden clothes.

Though he's mostly numb, he knows when they uncover his torso because the guy cutting the sweater from his back hisses, "Fuck me."

Before he has a chance to think of anything to say, a blanket is draped around his shoulders as he's ushered – naked and shivering – into a chair near the fireplace. And a different voice – it sounds like Bill – says, "Okay. Fuck off. He doesn't need an audience." Sure enough, Bill's face comes into view and he asks, "What's your name?"

Clutching the blanket around his body and willing his teeth to stop chattering enough to convince the man, he replies, "C…Christian Grey. I'm s…suffering from mild to moderate hypothermia, but my memory is fine and I didn't quite black out. How's Lucy?"

"She's fine; better than you, I think. An ambulance is on the way. You don't seem like a guy who'd bother with hospitals much?"

Christian stutters a laugh at that and shuffles closer to the fire as he says, "No, but I'll let them check me out. Fuck, Ana is going to kill me. I lectured her only this morning about safety; reminding her not to do anything reckless."

Bill heaps more blankets on Christian as he says, "Yeah, looks like you're the one who needs monitoring. Make a habit of risking your life like that?"

Feeling much better, despite the physical pain as sensation returns to his limbs, Christian manages a real laugh and says, "If any of you fuckers could run, I wouldn't have even done so today. I was just first to the lake."

"First to the lake after somehow guessing that's where she was. You do know you saved her life, right?"

Suddenly back to uncomfortable, Christian realizes and asks, "They're going to make a big deal about this, aren't they?"

"If you mean everyone within twenty miles, for the rest of your life; yes." Just then there's a knock at the door, so Bill stands to answer it as he says, "And that'll be the first of them."

Mortified to hear Ann Lambert's voice, Christian checks that he's completely covered, and is grateful to hear, "I won't come in. How is he?"

"Good, Nan; good. Send in the paramedics when they're done with Lucy, but I think he's already feeling better."

"Oh, I'm so glad. I'll leave him alone for now. Just tell him…." She laughs a little and says, "Maybe it had better wait until I can think of adequate words."

Bill's voice lowers to a murmur, but Christian still hears him say, "It's all right, Nan; he knows."

Jerry's voice then says, "Didn't want to rummage through his stuff, so these will have to do for now."

"Thanks. Just give him some time before you release the grateful hoards, okay?"

As expected, Bill returns with a pile of clothes, saying, "Might as well wait until you've been checked out. They'll want to check your blood pressure and color of your skin; shit like that." Then gesturing to Christian's now covered torso, he adds, "Some of those scrapes might need attention too, before you put a shirt over them."

It's a good idea, so Christian leaves the clothes untouched. "You don't need to babysit me. I really am fine, thanks. Oh, and thank you, for getting rid of everyone. I'm not much into crowds."

Bill laughs and says, "I remember. That first night, I learned your name and then you were gone. I'll only stay until the medics get here." The approaching sound of a siren is heard. "Which should be any minute."

They're quite for a while, Christian just soaking up the heat from the fire as he stares into the flames and eventually asks, "How many people saw my scars?"

"Uh, about eight guys; your skin was still bright red from the cold when we carried you in here, so they were quite evident. They might be talking about it, but they won't mention it to you, if that's what you're worried about."

It is – that and the fact that he hates when people look at him with pity – but Christian can't find the courage to say so. Instead, he shrugs and says, "It was a long time ago."

"But it was yesterday, too?"

That finally gets Christian's attention and he's looking at Bill when the older man holds up his left palm, to reveal a shiny, white scar over most of his hand; bad enough to remove his prints. "I was born left-handed. The fucker held my hand against the wood stove so I couldn't use it for weeks. I'm guessing yours were for as pointless a reason?"

"Yeah." Suddenly filled with outrage, not just for himself and Bill, but all abused children, Christian vehemently promises, "This will not happen to my son."

"I believe you." At the knock on the door, Bill stands and says, "That's my cue. I doubt they'll take very long to pronounce you healthy. After that I might be able to give you another twenty minutes before you'll have to put up with everyone thanking you…probably repeatedly, okay?"

With a grin, Christian asks, "Any point saying 'no'?"

Bill only laughs as he heads to the door.

* * *

Now in several layers of borrowed clothes, some disgusting hot beverage in his hands claiming to have something to do with beef, a different roaring fire before him, and surrounded by well-wishers recounting his icy adventure, Christian is doing his best to cope with being the center of attention when someone enters and hands him a cordless phone, saying, "The missus."

Taking this opportunity to rid himself of a couple of problems, he stands and swaps the cup for the phone as he says, "Thanks. I'll take this in privacy, if you don't mind." No one does. He heads for the nearest empty room and lifts the phone to his ear as he says, "Hey, baby. I told them not to call you."

Her voice small, Ana says, "They didn't. Someone called Pru and she told me, thinking that I must already know. I didn't believe it until I couldn't reach your cell. Are you really okay?"

"I'm fine. I let the paramedics check me out, because I knew you'd worry otherwise." Closing the door on the world, he lies, "They recommend that I cuddle up to a beautiful, naked woman and call them in the morning."

Ana giggles, making everything better, and jokes, "Presumably with the details?"

He's almost smiling too much to answer, "Exactly." Then serious, he pleads, "Don't come back early. I'm fine. And, believe it or not, this was actually helpful; all that time worrying about you and I'm the one who needed protection…well, Lucy, anyway. So it's further confirmation that my concerns about you are mostly bullshit."

"Well, I'm glad something good came out of it…other than the obvious. How _is_ Lucy?"

"Last I heard, sitting up in bed, with several people waiting on her, and lapping up all the attention like a pro. Thomas hasn't yet recovered enough to be pissed at her, but she'll probably be in trouble tomorrow."

"As will you."

Smiling at her "threat", he asks, "For saving a child? What's the punishment for that, Mrs. Grey?"

"I think you should be grounded, at least for a day."

Her sultry tone confirming that they're on the same wavelength, Christian can feel his dick stirring – poor bastard had nearly retreated inside his body after the icy swim. "Confine me to my room…maybe even to bed?"

Laughter now in her voice, Ana says, "Precisely. I'm sorry to be so harsh on you, Mr. Grey, but you deserve it."

Now unable to stop smiling, he says, "Yes, dear."

She laughs again, making his heart ache with yearning, and says, "Oh, I like that." They're quiet for a few seconds, just sharing the silence, and then she concedes, "All right. I'll stay here. Apparently Pru's got this big evening planned; early dinner plus a cabaret show. But I'll be back by midnight, okay?"

He hadn't suggested an actual time, determined not to let his fears control her movements, but is glad now of this concession and agrees, "Okay. Thanks. I'll see you not quite soon enough."

"Not nearly soon enough. Thank you, darling."

"For?"

"Being okay."

"Oh. My pleasure. Soon, baby."

It seems that he can hear her sigh, but he might be imagining it, and with the promise "Soon," she's gone.

Returning the phone, he asks for and receives directions to Lucy's room. There's no sound coming from within, so he gently knocks on the door, in case she's sleeping. A familiar face, that he cannot match a name to, opens the door. Her face lights up on seeing him, and she steps aside, saying, "Christian. Come in."

"Thanks. I'm sorry, I can't recall…?"

"Bev. Tom's sister."

Tom is sitting in a chair by the bed, watching over his sleeping daughter. Christian guesses that the traumatized single father hasn't moved all this time. He stands on seeing who their visitor is and warmly shakes Christian's hand even as he clutches the arm with his left hand, trapping his guest in a vice-like grip of gratitude as he quietly says, "Thank you. I can't…there aren't words…."

Willing himself not to blush, which of course has the opposite effect, Christian says, "Anyone would have done it. I just got there first."

"After working out where she might be. You've saved my daughter's life."

Bev then gently interjects. "Tom, he knows; he was there. Now leave the poor man alone."

It's Tom's turn to blush, and he finally releases Christian, asking, "So, what can we do for you? Just checking on Luce?"

Glancing at the sleeping child, Christian says, "Yeah. They tell me she's just fine?"

Also looking towards the bed, Tom reveals, "Yep…other than exhausted, as you can see. I don't think she quite realizes that she could have…she just thinks the whole thing was a grand adventure, with you as the hero of the story."

Despite resolving to keep his voice lowered, just as the others are doing, Christian can't stifle a laugh and says, "Well that's a first." When Lucy then stirs and starts to wake, he grimaces and adds, "Sorry."

Tom shrugs as he approaches the bed, saying, "It's okay. I would have had to wake her soon, anyway, or she won't sleep tonight. But I'm finding it very difficult to refuse her anything right now…other than her skates, of course, which are thoroughly hidden." Gently pushing a strand of hair from her face, he says to the waking child, "Hey, Luce; look who's come for a visit?"

Lucy sits up, rubbing her eyes, and exclaims, "Christian! Did you get hot chocolate with marshmallows, too?"

Approaching and squatting by the bed, so he'll be at her level, Christian says, "Uh, no; they gave me some drink that tasted like…I don't even know. I think it was meant to be beef soup."

Lucy crinkles up her nose in disgust and says, "Bovril." Leveling a look of scathing disapproval on her father, she adds, "Daddy _likes_ it."

Chuckling at her outrage, Christian says, "Well, Daddy can have mine."

Lucy giggles and says, "And mine. Hey, did they put the thing around your arm?"

Confused for a moment, Christian catches on and says, "The blood pressure cuff? Yes. Apparently, I'm healthy."

"Me, too." Then looking to Tom, she asks, "Can I show him off, Daddy? I won't be long, but the other kids won't believe me otherwise."

It's Bev who chides, "He's not a toy, Luce. You have to first ask Christian."

Suddenly realizing that the wary accolades of cynical children might be easier to face than the sincere and deep gratitude of every adult in the place, who better understand the consequences if Lucy had spent even minutes longer in that icy water, he says "I'd love to," remembering to ask Tom, "If that's okay with you? I won't leave her side until she's again with you."

Despite all he's endured, only a flicker of reluctance passes across Tom's face and he says, "I think you can be trusted to watch out for her." Then looking at his daughter, he teases, "I've got some ice skates to burn, anyway."

Finally having the decency to look ashamed, Lucy pouts, "No, Daddy. I'm sorry. I won't do it again. Please don't burn my skates."

Kissing her forehead, Tom concedes, "All right, Goose; we'll discuss consequences later. Go show off your new toy, and mind you don't break him."

When they're alone, on their way to only Lucy knows where, Christian takes the opportunity to ask, "Lucy, why did you do it? Why did you go skating alone, when you knew it was wrong?" At her wary expression, he adds, "I'm not your dad, sweetie. I just want to understand."

Apparently too serious to discuss while dragging Christian along, Lucy stops and lets go of his hand to explain, "I wanted to go skating, but Daddy was working. He's always working. He said that these holidays he wouldn't do that so much." Clearly thinking it's relevant, she adamantly states, "And I'm a really good skater." Then shrugging, she adds, "But I didn't know where the thin ice was. No one told me. It's really not my fault."

Unable to let that slide, Christian gently reminds her, "You disobeyed your father and put yourself, and me, in great danger."

Suitably chastened, Lucy blushes and concedes, "Yeah, I'm sorry." Then, with a smile that would melt anyone's heart, she confidently concludes, "But you'll forgive me."

Wondering if men are born at a disadvantage to women, Christian laughs at her efficient manipulation and agrees, "Yes, I'll forgive you. But I get your dessert at supper." When she hesitates, he laughs again as he realizes, "You're wondering what we're having, aren't you?"

Unashamed at being caught out, Lucy shrugs and says, "I really like apple pie."

"Okay. If it's apple pie, I get half, then we're even."

"Deal."

* * *

Where credit's due: Had to actually research where I might have first heard the term "Jeeves" for an efficient manservant. Pretty sure it was "Wodehouse Playhouse". Sidenote: throughout my daughter's High School years, she'd text me "Home, Jeeves?" when she was ready to leave.


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter Forty-two

It's almost midnight and Christian is sitting up in bed—now clad in his own clothes: t-shirt and pajama pants—when he hears footsteps hurriedly approaching. It can only be Ana. So he puts his laptop to one side and is standing to greet her when the door bursts open and several shopping bags tumble to the floor as she rushes into his arms so fast that he's barely taken a step. Joyful laughter rolling from him at her enthusiasm, he lets her impetus force them back onto the bed, mindful of their son as they fall. Even as her lips lock onto his and he closes his eyes to better answer this shared need, he sees the door close on Lea's smiling face.

When they finally come up for air, he has the beginning of an erection and they're both breathing heavily. Again laughing, wondering when it became so easy for him, he gasps, "Hey, baby. Miss me?" When Ana merely lowers her head to rest against his shoulder, he guesses that she's thinking of his brush with icy death. One hand stroking her hair, the other caressing calming circles on her back, he says, "Hey, I'm okay, I swear; some scratches on my chest from the ice…maybe some bruising tomorrow. But I'm honestly fine."

Either it's not enough, or it's irrelevant to what Ana is feeling, because a shudder goes through her as she starts silently weeping. Shuffling, so that he can cradle her to him, Christian says nothing as his wife lets her body react to the danger he faced today. It hurts that his actions have indirectly caused her suffering, but he knows it's not really about what happened, rather what _might_ have happened. And he understands all too well the terror of "What if?"

When she's finally cried out, Christian reaches out to grab the box of Kleenex from the nightstand and taps her shoulder with it. Ana takes a few and repairs her appearance before mumbling, "Thank you. You don't want me to say I'm sorry."

One corner of his mouth lifting at the fact that it basically _is_ an apology, he says, "No, I don't. You've done nothing wrong. Do _I_ need to apologize?"

"No. I understand why you couldn't have done anything else. Though, from the way Pru retells it, just working out that Lucy was skating saved her life. You didn't have to actually be the one who jumped in after her."

It honestly hadn't occurred to him, but Christian realizes, "You're right. I didn't even think about that. Though Tom was the next closest, and it occurred to me that he might not be able to stay detached enough to think it through."

Ana finally manages a weak laugh and points out, "Says the guy who launched himself onto a frozen lake, wearing only jeans and a sweater, knowing that he'd end up in the water."

Incredibly relieved that one good cry seems to have appeased her fears, he smiles and confesses, "You got me." Praying that it really was enough for her, he then asks, "We're okay?"

Resting a gentle hand on his chest, she says, "We're okay." Suddenly sitting up, she commands, "Show me the damage." When Christian hesitates, Ana calmly asks, "You'd rather return to always having sex with your clothes on?"

Smiling at memories, Christian says "You asked for it, Mrs. Grey," as he sheds the t-shirt.

Ana hisses her distress at seeing the many shallow abrasions on his torso, and reaches out a hand to not quite touch the few deeper cuts, now concealed by bandages. Her voice seems to hold a blend of both love and resigned pain when she quietly asks, "More scars?"

Suddenly desperate for her touch, as if that alone can erase any bad thing that's ever happened to him, Christian takes her hand and holds the palm flat against his abused chest as he promises, "No, darling; they'll heal. And, since meeting you, even my scars don't hurt as much."

Moisture again fills Ana's eyes—this time he knows they're good tears—but she blinks them away and brusquely, says, "Right. I'm going to brush my teeth, pee for the umpteenth time today and get ready for bed. _You_ are going to get naked and stay warm under the covers while you wait for me, okay?"

Remembering their earlier conversation, Christian smiles and says, "Yes, dear."

* * *

Christian wakes to someone tenderly kissing his chest. For a fraction of a second, a memory of psychosomatic pain at being touched sends his heart-rate skyrocketing and he tenses, terrified that he's about to "disappear" and embarrass himself. But there is only one person in his entire life who has done this for him, so he's smiling as he opens his eyes, to see a shock of luxuriant brown hair covering his torso while Ana treats each fresh wound with her oh-so-soft lips. Reaching out a hand to lazily caress her now naked back, he says, "Mmm…nice. I fell asleep, didn't I?"

Ana giggles and lifts her head to smile and say, "Yes, darling. Well, you did have an eventful day. I figured you wouldn't mind if I woke you."

Lifting Ana astride him, not yet presuming that she wants intercourse right away—his cock isn't quite ready, anyway…though a few seconds under her warm, wet pussy should do the trick—he smiles and says, "Not at all. I'm surprised _you're_ not tired."

Ana blushes a little and says, "I slept most of the way back. I think my body is now programmed to fall unconscious when I'm in the Range Rover; it's so comfortable."

"Maybe we should get one? We'll need a bigger car soon…though we'll probably want something a little more city-friendly. Audi doesn't really do minivans, but the Chrysler 'Town and Country' might be a good choice for us; it meets all my safety requirements, easily seats seven people in luxurious comfort…or four and a baby capsule safe in the middle of the last row, has heaps of storage capacity and, loaded with optional extras, will be…." She's staring at him, clearly amused by something he's said. "What?"

Visibly struggling not to laugh, Ana snorts, "Minivan."

Finally catching on, and remembering a conversation from before they were married, he chuckles—because it really is kind of funny—and asks, "Christian Grey shopping for minivans?" When Ana unleashes her delighted smile with a stilted giggle and a nod, he grins and continues, "Oh, you'd be amazed at some of the websites I visit nowadays, Mrs. Grey. And I'm very much enjoying my research on nursing bras."

Ana laughs and says, "I can understand the attraction of a bra with easy access. But, darling, I don't need your help choosing everyday underwear. I've been doing so for a long time."

"Until you learn to be a little selfish, I'll continue to be concerned about every aspect of your life." Reaching up to cup her breasts and lift them a little, he continues, "And we need to look after these puppies while you're feeding our baby."

With a suddenly wicked gleam in her eye, Ana says, "How about we both shop for my nursing bras; make an afternoon of it?"

The idea goes straight to his groin, where his dick is still sandwiched between them and now growing. "How the hell is that such a sexy idea?"

Ana laughs and says, "Well, I presume you're picturing a quickie in the change room?"

"I am now." Grasping her hips and lifting her a little, he asks "Ready, baby?" And then he wonders if every man who has a lover feels this lucky when Ana's only answer is to reach between them and facilitate his plan, and their bodies join with a mutual sigh of pleasure. "You know why this position was never that attractive to me, before you. But it's fast becoming my favorite."

Rubbing a hand over her now prominent belly, Ana says, "Maybe because you can see the proof of your potency?"

The word sounds so good from her lips that he tries it out, caressing the syllables as they leave his mouth, "Potency. Yes, perhaps. But I think it's more that…much as I love it when you let me run the show, it's as if, when we fuck like this, we do so more as equals; just man and wife, celebrating their love for each other."

Ana smiles and teases, "Don't tell me you've finally gone completely vanilla on me, Grey?"

"Hardly. I'm missing the playroom just as much as you do. And, why do you make jokes when you know I'm being sincere?" He has his theories, but keeps quiet; wondering if Ana is even aware of her true motives.

"Uh, I don't really know…something to ask Flynn? I'm sorry, darling."

It's enough, for now, so he smiles to show he's not upset and says, "Well, play with my balls for a bit and I'll forgive you."

With a lecherous grin, Ana clenches her internal muscles, clasping his cock in a tight embrace, even as she reaches behind to lift and caress his balls with both hands, dragging a delicate fingernail along the bottom of his shaft as she does so, and suggests, "Why don't you lie back and think of England?"

A profound sigh of pleasure escapes him and, noting the absence of "Sir", he asks, "Feel like fucking me, Mrs. Grey?"

Her voice sounding far away, as doing this for him also gives her pleasure, Ana says, "I do. Just this one, okay? After being so worried about you earlier, I feel the need to…oh, fuck, I just want to fuck you."

Delighted that she's so eager, Christian reaches up to grip the bedhead, praying that it's strong enough, and borrows one of her favorite phrases, "No one's stopping you, Mrs. Grey."

"Thank you, darling."

With Ana's absolute and profound need to be subjugated during sex, this particular position—especially if he remains a passive (though extremely willing) participant—means that her orgasm is merely a tantalizing concept on a distant horizon. But it's always worth the wait. For his part, _not_ caressing her as she rides him first slowly and then increasingly frantically, as ecstasy takes hold of her, is one of the most challenging things he's ever endured. But delaying his orgasm so that he can watch her climax, knowing that her love for him and his cock inside her is the only reason for it…the release is incredible; an explosive celebration of their union that rocks, not just his body, but his world, too. He'll never get tired of it…never get tired of _her_.

An apparent eternity later, her eyes closed as passion consumes her, covered in a sheen of perspiration and soft moans coming from her throat, Ana suddenly slaps her palms onto Christian's chest as she grinds away at him, alternatively riding up and down and gyrating her hips. The sharp pain, as she blindly digs her fingernails into his injured chest, provides an excellent focus so that he's able to remain in control as an expression of pure bliss transforms her already stunning features into something almost angelic, and she offers up his name in long, sibilant celebration of sin as she pulses through an orgasm, reflexively trapping his cock in a desperate, unconscious bid to make him come. It's his cue. Clutching her hips, fingers splayed under her buttocks and further supporting her weight with his forearms clenched along her thighs, he lifts her almost off him then slams her back down, even as thrusts up to meet her.

This time she is truly lost and her eyes fly open as she screams his name, beyond caring whether anyone can hear, as this second orgasm somehow catches and then eclipses the first. Usually, when they're like this, he'd be riding those waves with her, or quickly finish with a few more thrusts. Tonight, he feels the need to make it only about her. He understands, perhaps better than anyone, what she would have endured today after the graphic reminder that they're both in danger, every moment of every day.

Ana is, as much as her swollen belly will permit, splayed across his chest, breathing hard and trembling as the aftershocks of pleasure travel through her body. Careful to avoid the more sensitive areas, Christian caresses her back, mindful of the fact that she could well have another emotional outburst. After a while, she squirms a little and says, "You're not done."

Nothing in her tone gives him a clue what she's feeling, so he merely says, "I am if you are."

Sitting up, she says, "I told you, Mr. Grey; you're grounded for scaring me like that, so—"

Looking at his chest, for the explanation to her sudden silence and horrified expression, he sees that the vivid, red marks from her fingernails have bisected and reopened a couple of today's scratches, so that fresh blood is pooling in the grooves. "It's nothing, baby. Doesn't even hurt."

Somewhat appeased, Ana warily asks, "Swear?"

Laughing a little at her childish mistrust, he crosses his heart, avoiding the wounds, and echoes, "Swear."

Wondering how she can still manage to shock him, after all they've been through, in and out of the playroom, Christian's heart feels like it's about to burst or suddenly stop beating…maybe both, when Ana's gaze darkens with renewed lust as she delicately dabs a finger in the blood and stares seemingly into his very soul while she sucks his very life essence from the tip.

Something…some sound—too primitive to be called words—rumbles up from his core and erupts out his mouth. What happens next is so fast that even he almost can't follow it, but Ana is on her knees, hands behind her back in his iron grip, her face and shoulders resting on the bed as he pounds into her for all he's worth. Only seconds later, sweet release courses through him as he empties into her, grunting like a base animal and loving every second of it. Immediately releasing her wrists, he rolls them both onto their side, still joined, so that she'll be more comfortable, and wraps his arms around her as he kisses her shoulder, too out of breath to voice his gratitude for her incredibly reliable instincts. Only then becoming aware of the slight pulsing around his now drained cock, he's a little in awe as he gasps, "Another one, Anastasia?"

He can not only see, but feel, the hot blush on her skin and she says, "Maybe I _did_ miss you…just a little."

"Well, maybe I missed you, too." She's quiet for so long that he asks, "Baby?"

"You don't usually say that."

"That I've missed you while you were away?" Though he can't think of an example, he protests, "I'm sure I say it."

Ana shakes her head and says, "Hardly ever. And you're usually too busy lecturing me to say it before I go."

She must be right. It's not something she'd lie about. Resisting the old instinct to feel like a failure, he thinks about it for a while and says, "That's why you usually joke that you won't miss me at all?"

"Yeah. I didn't want to put pressure on you."

Resisting the urge to apologize, aware that Ana understands probably better than he does why he's still crap at this stuff, he asks, "The fact that we're discussing this means you think I'll do better from now on?"

Turning in his arms, leaving his rapidly waning erection bereft of her snug presence, Ana searches his face as she says, "I guess so. But I won't mind if you forget or can't do it. I know you love me. You're okay about this?"

A hint of guilt nagging at him, Christian shrugs and says, "Mostly. I don't like feeling that I'm yet again the dunce of relationship school. But I know you don't hold it against me." Shrugging of all negative thoughts, he holds her a little tighter and says, "And, though I'm sure you already know, I would like to say that I miss you terribly any time we're not together. Fuck, I even missed you while you were in the bathroom just now. Whenever you leave me, for whatever reason, it's as if the best part of me goes with you. I don't feel quite whole until you're again by my side." At her dazzling smile, he asks, "You going to fuck me again?"

"Not tonight." Glancing at the clock, she says, "Well, not this morning. I'm exhausted after following Pru all over London. Oh, we didn't have our twenty minutes."

"If I'm grounded, we have time to catch up today." Quickly kissing her, he asks, "Need to pee again? Or shall I fetch you a cloth?"

"I'll go. I swear my bladder is squashed to the size of a grape; your son must be enormous."

"Oh, he's _my_ son, now?"

Donning a t-shirt as she leaves the bed, Ana says, "He is when he's riding my bladder."

Christian laughs and points out, "The way you were riding _me _earlier, I don't think you can entirely blame Junior."

She's disappearing into the bathroom as she counters, "Blip."

Christian bothers with the pajamas again. Though the ancient oil heater radiates steady warmth at all hours, the room still gets cold just before dawn. He's almost again asleep when Ana returns and climbs under the covers, into his arms. After accepting her tender kiss, he means every word when he says, "I missed you."

Ana laughs and says, "You're not going to say that after every time I've left the room, are you?"

"Figured I need the practice. Sweet dreams, baby."

Snuggling against him, Ana yawns and says, "I missed you, too." His arm is outstretched to turn off the lamp when she asks, "Oh, how did Grace take the news of your icy plunge?"

"Why would I tell Mom? She'll just worry needlessly."

Sitting up to better level her disapproving look at him, Ana says, "You think she'll worry less when she learns from some news report that billionaire Christian Grey, while vacationing in Britain with his wife, dove into a frozen lake to save a small child?"

She's right. This will almost certainly reach Seattle. "Fuck." Glancing at the time, he grabs his phone as he says, "It's still early back home. I'll call her from the en suite. You need sleep."

"Say 'hi' for me."

She looks so cute, snuggled under the covers, that he can't resist kissing her again, and says, "You got it, Adorable Ana."

He's torn between love and lust when she closes her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she murmurs, "Darling Dominant."

* * *

"Baby? Baby, wake up."

It's Christian's voice, and the lamp beside him is way too bright, but that's all Ana knows as she wakes. Then noticing that she's grasping his penis through the front slit in his pajamas—his very erect penis—she has a flashback to the dream she'd just been having and withdraws her hand as if stung. "What the…? Was I doing that in my sleep?"

Infuriatingly, Christian only laughs, apparently delighted with the idea, and says, "Looks like you can't get enough of me, even in your dreams."

Distressed to have so little control over her body, Ana sits up as she says, "Not funny, Grey. What if I'd woken up astride you?"

Still with that smug grin, Christian says, "Then I would have let you finish before waking you."

Starting to see the funny side of it, Ana smiles and asks, "What do you think Flynn would say about this one?"

Suddenly serious, Christian says, "Maybe that you're feeling needy after my swim?"

She can see that he's worried about her reaction. But she already wept over that and feels surprisingly okay about it now. "Well, I'd rather you didn't make a habit of it, but I'm all right." Resting a hand on his still prominent erection, she continues, "Maybe I'm just horny, Mr. Grey?"

It's all the permission he needs. Ana feels that familiar thrill burn through her as he throws the covers aside and gently forces her back onto the bed, even as he slides her t-shirt up over her head. "Is this one of your favorites?"

"No. Go for it."

With a few, deft twists of the fabric, he turns the garment into improvised handcuffs and lifts her a moment to hook them over the bedpost. "Too tight?"

"No." Then laughing, Ana asks, "This isn't going to be quick, is it?"

Pushing Ana's thighs apart and kneeling between them, Christian grins and says, "No, ma'am. It's almost dawn. Let's see if we can wake up the household, shall we?"

There's unmistakable macho pride in his tone, and Ana marvels that, in less than two weeks, he's gone from freaking out about people knowing that they have sex, to wanting to show off. About to agree, Ana suddenly thinks up a new game and resists smiling as she says, "No, Sir."

At first frowning in confusion, Christian studies her face for a while, then grins and echoes, "No? You're saying that you refuse to make a sound this time?" When Ana's only answer is to clench her lips shut, he laughs and says, "Whilst I always welcome and applaud your ingenuity, baby, you can't keep quiet even when I gag you."

Determined to let this play out, now that she's started it, Ana merely shakes her head. Christian eyes her speculatively for a moment, then says, "All right, baby. But there has to be consequences." She trusts him, so merely nods her consent. Giving it some thought, he then says, "If you speak or cry out, you have to fetch my breakfast. I'll reciprocate if you manage to come without vocalizing. Oh, the exception of course being safewords or if Junior is making you uncomfortable, okay?"

At her nod, Christian says "Right. I'll see you later," and heads for the door. Confident that he wouldn't leave a pregnant woman tied to a bedpost, Ana is smiling when he soon returns to his position between her thighs as he concedes, "Worth a shot." With a wicked grin, he then warns "Brace yourself, Mrs. Grey," before lifting her just off the bed with those incredibly strong hands under her butt, and lowering his head to her.

He's good at so many things. But, at this, he's a master. Still, this morning, he excels himself. Ana doesn't know how long he spends on this most intimate part of her, exquisitely torturing her with his tongue, lips and, very gently, even his teeth. She hovers on the edge of release for what seems like forever, her entire body now trembling and her legs shuddering with each caress of his tongue, each hot breath from his mouth. Finally releasing her poor bottom lip when the pain from unconsciously gnawing on it registers through the fog of lust, and that distinctive copper flavor confirms that her teeth penetrated the fragile flesh, she settles for clenching her jaw to keep quiet.

She can feel the moisture dribbling down her butt and wonders if it's from her, him, or both. It sort of tickles, but the feeling barely registers amongst the overload of sensation she's already experiencing. As if he's heard her thoughts, Christian only now lowers her bottom onto the bed, so that he can run one finger along her butt crack, the ease of the caress proving that the copious wetness is from her alone, and she feels her resolve crumbling. They don't very often have anal sex, but a memory of the last, mind-blowing experience is enough that even his teasing, testing finger almost makes her come, yet still he doesn't permit her release. Permanently poised at the very edge of rapture, the bed creaks as Ana strains against her bonds, desperate to do something…anything, that will bring her relief from this aching, burning need. And, still, his talented tongue is lapping over, under, around and across her swollen clit. _Oh, God!_

"Fuck!"

Ana only knows that the growled expletive erupted from her lips when Christian starts laughing. Wiping his mouth on the sheet beneath them, he lifts his adoring gaze to hers and smugly asks, "Did you hear something just now, baby?"

She's already lost the bet, so Ana decides to go for it. Her chest heaving, she commands, "Just fucking fuck me, you fucker."

Apparently delighted with this instruction, Christian's smile is wide as he again lifts Ana's butt off the bed, shuffling forward on his knees so that he can enter her as he watches her reaction. After so long on the preparation, Ana's vaginal walls tighten around him even as he slides effortlessly in. Amazed that giving her pleasure means that he's remained erect all this time, she earnestly declares, "Sometimes, I think that I'm the luckiest woman in the world."

His eyes almost closed as he slowly moves within her, gently celebrating their union, Christian smiles serenely and jokes, "Sometimes, I think you are, too."


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter Forty-three

After breakfast in bed—willingly served by Ana, though she pretended to do so under duress; further honoring Christian's "victory"—the Greys are once again in each other's arms, reclining against the many pillows while Ana idly toys with his chest hairs, when Christian suggests, "Twenty minutes?"

"Go ahead."

"I have a demand, a proposal and a request for you."

Ignoring that part of her that hears the word "demand" as a challenge, Ana smiles and says, "I'm listening."

Gently stroking Ana's hair as he speaks, Christian says, "Part of why Lucy survived is that she was able to keep her head above water, even with the weight of saturated winter clothing. So our children will all learn to swim as soon as they're physically able."

Nodding, Ana says, "We live in Seattle. I think that's an excellent idea. Did you think I'd fight you on this?"

"No. Just making sure you understand how I feel about it. I know that…my own upbringing has taught me that, no matter now careful we are…fuck, sorry; something I'm still working on with Flynn."

While Christian brings his panicked body back under control, Ana guesses the reason for his disquiet and feels an echo of his horror at the idea when she reminds them both, "One day they'll be in danger and we won't be there."

The lack of emotion in his voice confirming how much the idea scares him, Christian finds the courage to say, "Yes. Part of our job is to ensure that, when that day comes, they're equipped to cope without us."

"I don't like to consider it, but I agree with you. One good thing about Mom often not being available is that I learned to look after myself."

"I'm not sure that's the model I'd want to use, but you have the general idea."

Noting his tone, Ana lifts her head to look at him and ask, "I thought you two were getting along?"

Christian shrugs and confesses, "I don't like who she is since we came here. She's barely come out of her room. When she does, it's to complain about something."

Of course familiar with this side of her mother, Ana rests her head against his chest and feels somewhat disloyal when she says, "Mom doesn't do well alone."

"She's not."

"No, I mean…she doesn't so well without a man around. She's missing Bob."

"Fuck, she's submissive. I should have known."

"Maybe. I dunno. We've never talked about it. I just know that she kind of falls to pieces between men."

"Trust me on this, baby. Carla may not be aware of it, but she craves instruction from a dominant personality. Fuck, that makes so much sense. In that case, I have another request; permission to boss your mother around?"

Again lifting her head to look at him, Ana warily asks, "You want to dominate my mother."

Christian laughs at the look on her face and quickly kisses her before explaining, "Not like that, baby. I just want to snap her out of this sulk, so you can enjoy the rest of our time with her."

Still unsure, Ana asks, "You won't bully her?"

"Not physically. I'll just be Drill Sargent Grey for a day. But not if you have a real problem with it. She's your mom."

"All right. But, just…go easy, okay? I don't want to drive her away when we're closer than we've ever been."

Christian grins and says, "Trust me."

"I do. Your other request?"

"First my proposal." Taking a deep breath, Christian reveals, "I want to stay at home with the baby, at least until they start preschool."

The words keep playing over and over in Ana's head, but it's no good, and she eventually asks, "What?"

Again, that grin she adores, and he repeats, more slowly, "I want to stay at home with the baby."

Shaking her head, utterly confused, Ana points out, "It's only been months since you totally freaked out about the very _idea_ of a baby. Now you want to…what…quit your job, so you can stay home and change diapers?"

His expression fearful, but his tone sincere, Christian says, "Effectively, yes, though I'm not actually retiring. Obviously, I'll need help. But Mom is only a phone call away, and Gail is a fully qualified nanny, though she's a little out of practice. But I'm sure babies haven't changed that much since she last cared for one. Her first aid knowledge is current, because that's a requirement of all our personal staff."

"Fuck, you're serious." When he only nods, his expression guarded, Ana says, "You're terrified."

"Abso-fucking-lutely. But I don't want our son raised by a stranger. And your career is just starting. However, I can pretty much run things from home; my two lieutenants, Dan and Ros, are doing a depressingly excellent job of replacing me." With a shrug, he continues, "I know it won't be easy, especially at first, but I really think I can do this…I _want_ to do this."

Trying to picture it; Christian Grey as a stay-at-home dad, Ana gives up and instead asks, "How is this a proposal? Sounds more like you've decided."

"Well, for a start, it will require your cooperation. I'm not stupid. I know this will be hard. Also, I'd like you to, when he's old enough for preschool, cut back on your hours enough to pick up our son every week day and spend the afternoon with him, while I again take up the reins at GEH. I don't want any of our children to spend more time with their bodyguard than they do with us."

Ana again tries to imagine what that life would be like, but her normally vivid imagination falls short and she says only, "This is huge."

"Yes. What do you think?"

Mindful of his wounds, Ana shuffles so she can lean on his chest and cradle his face with both hands as she warmly says "I think you're fucking amazing," before rewarding him with a long, tender kiss.

Smiling slightly, Christian is justifiably smug as he asks, "Is that a 'yes'?"

"Yes. I mean, as you say, it won't be easy and we'll have to work out the details. But I love it. I don't want our children raised by staff…not even staff like we have."

They kiss again, then just hold each other for a while. Finally, Ana asks, "Oh, your second request?"

Shuffling a little, as if embarrassed, Christian says, "I…if our second child is female, would you stay home with her? I can't seem to refuse girls anything. If we have a daughter, I'm screwed if I spend all day with her."

Ana laughs and says, "Scared of a newborn baby, Christian? And, if we have a daughter, you're screwed anyway. But it seems fair that I take the second child…oh, but I'll have two to look after."

"Obviously, I'll help; just not fulltime. Deal?"

Struggling not to laugh from sheer joy, Ana agrees, "Deal." When he says nothing else, she asks, "That's it?"

"For now. As you say, we'll need to work out the details, but it can wait until we get back. Do you have anything you wish to discuss?"

"Are you aware that you called me 'darling' last night?"

"I did?" With a small laugh, Christian says, "I guess that answers your question. No, I don't remember doing so, but I'm not surprised; you really are a darling. So, did you like it?"

"I did, very much. Though I'm surprisingly okay with 'baby' and even 'girl', nowadays."

"You don't like it when I call you 'baby'?"

"Not what I said. Before meeting you, when I heard or read that term, it seemed kind of patronizing, even demeaning. But it's different when you say it; I feel loved, cherished…special."

Visibly relaxing, Christian says, "Good. You are."

Nervous, despite this opportunity to ask something that she's wondered for a while, Ana quietly asked, "What did she…what did Elena call you?" At his wary expression, she adds, "I just want to understand."

After considering for a moment longer, Christian says, "Mostly 'darling boy'. If I'd pleased her greatly, she'd call me 'my beautiful man'. Uh, outside the playroom, and when she attended family functions, she'd refer to me as 'pet'. It's not something anyone would think was out of place, given that she's overgenerous with such terms, but I knew it was a reminder that I belonged to her." When Ana is silent for several seconds, he pleads, "Some idea what you're thinking, baby? You know this topic makes me nervous."

Flexing her hand a little, where it rests on his chest, Ana says, "It sounds…kind of loving."

Christian shrugs and says, "I'm sure it was; kind of. Elena maintains that she's incapable of love, but I thought the same thing of myself, until you proved me wrong. I don't think she ever really loved me…and I'm no longer convinced I felt that for her. But it was close, I think…closer than I've had with any other woman, besides you."

"Did she…was Elena…how weird is it that I feel the urge to respect even _her_ privacy?"

His expression grim, Christian reads her mind and reveals, "Yes, her start to life was pretty horrific, and you already know that her ex-husband, Linc, is a vicious, vengeful bastard. But that's Elena's past, baby, and all I'll say on the matter."

Clearly, that particular subject is closed. So Ana finally finds the courage to ask, "And…and she taught you…about pleasing a woman?"

Christian is quiet for so long, she's sure he won't reply. But then he says, "Yes, though every woman is different, but I learned the basics from her." After a sigh, he asks, "Is this going to be a problem for us?"

After giving it some thought, Ana says, "I don't think so. The person you were back then seems very different to the man I married."

"He is."

"And…she beat you?"

"Technically; yes, though only within my limits, and with my consent, always. I could have used a safeword at any time."

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I could handle the pain. In fact, she chastised me on finding out that I often kept silent way past the point of pleasure. Elena does not share my aversion to leaving marks on her lovers, though she likewise avoids anything that will do permanent damage. So I was never in danger that way, even with a desire to prove myself by accepting everything she dished out. But she, uh, she used to try and restrain me and, in the early days, would even attempt to touch my chest or back; misguidedly convinced that it would help me get over my phobias. Usually, it ended badly; with me accidentally hurting her or almost catatonic with fear…sometimes both. Flynn says she probably made it worse for a while, though I truly believe she meant well."

"That's the memory you wanted to do that time in Flynn's office?"

"One of them, yes. I can do it now, if you'd like? But I don't need to. Flynn says that now I'm over the worst of my PTSD, I don't have to dredge up every bad memory."

After considering, Ana sits up to face him and says, "How about, instead, you show me everything she never got to do?"

Christian's eyes light up and he asks, "Mrs. Grey, do you intend to fuck me like I've never been fucked before?"

Elated that they've once again discussed Elena without either of them getting too upset, Ana finally releases that joyful laugh and promises, "I do, indeed, Mr. Grey."

A delighted grin spreads over his face, and Christian says, "Then you'd better lock the door, baby, so we can ensure that you're the only person who will ever see me spread-eagled and bound to an antique brass bed."

Ana probably sets a new land speed record locking the door and finding improvised restraints. They're both grinning like teenagers as they prepare for the scene. With Christian on the bed, arms and legs wide, his erection well underway and growing, Ana only then remembers to be nervous. "You're sure about this? I know it went well with the handcuffs that one time, but it was a while ago."

With a serene smile, Christian reassures, "I'm sure, baby. Last night, when you woke me by kissing my chest, I realized how far I've progressed. In the past, that would have been enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack, ending with one of us unconscious on the floor." At her horrified expression, he quickly appeases, "Hey, it's okay. I got past that point before we met, or I would have warned you about it."

"Oh, okay. So, you didn't feel any panic?"

Searching for the right words, Christian eventually says, "More like an echo or memory of panic, as if my body thought I was in danger, but my brain knew different. You'll never deliberately hurt me."

"No. I won't." Then dispelling the past with a deep sigh, Ana uses the soft "ropes" to tie him to the metal bedposts as she says, "You're stuck now, Grey; tying knots was part of my education as the daughter of a Marine."

Christian laughs—the warm, throaty sound confirming that he's relaxed—and comments, "Though I'm guessing Ray didn't ever imagine you making this use of the knowledge."

Giggling at the thought of her dad's reaction to that news, Ana says, "No, I guess not." Satisfied that Christian is not only unable to escape, but exactly where he wants to be, she continues, "Right: rules of this game; you must listen to my commands and do exactly as I say, you must be completely honest with me, and you must promise that, if we ever split up, you never do this with—"

"We're not going to split up, baby. I'm in this for—"

Summoning what she hopes is a stern glare, Ana points out, "You've just broken the first rule."

Apparently, she isn't very convincing, because Christian only laughs again and says, "Sorry, baby. I solemnly promise that, in the incredibly unlikely event that we ever split up, I will _never_ let anyone fuck me like you're about to. Any other rules?"

"Nope. Okay; what have I called you that cannot imagine anyone else ever doing so?"

Christian considers for a few seconds. When he grimaces, as if in pain, she guesses just before he reluctantly says, "Chrissy Boy."

Unable to stop the joyous laughter at his expense, Ana soon reins it in and says, "Don't worry, Chrissy Boy, you'll like the name a lot more by the time I'm finished with you."

Her heart actually aches for him when a grumpy but resigned Christian pouts, "I'm not so sure. When do we get to the fucking part of this game?"

Laughter only moments away—a permanent effervescence of happiness within—Ana says, "What happened to the guy who used to extol the virtues of anticipation?"

Apparently dead serious, Christian says, "He met the love of his life and realized that he didn't want to wait anymore."

Actually trembling a little in response to the words "love of his life", Ana says, "Fuck, Christian, I'm trying to play Domme here. You can't say stuff like that and turn my insides to goo."

Breathing a laugh, he asks, "Goo?"

Recovering a little, Ana replies, "Goo. I can't be all soft and squishy inside and dominant at the same time."

With a shrug, he nevertheless manages to look smug as he says, "Your rules specified complete honesty, Mrs. Grey. And I've already had a Domme, remember?"

Quickly blocking that image with an imaginary concrete wall, Ana realizes, "Oh, right. This is harder than I thought. Any suggestions?"

"Well, that's a good start; only with you have I ever collaborated on a scene. Uh…anything on the chest is all Ana Grey…oh, and kissing like we do."

Shaking her head in an effort to process his words, Ana eventually asks, "Kissing? You've never kissed anyone before me? But, I thought you said that Elena…?"

Rolling his eyes, Christian says, "Of course, I've kissed, Ana. How do you think I know how to do it? But it was never like…we're often tender and gentle. That's not something I wanted before you." When Ana starts silently removing his bonds, he nervously asks, "Baby?"

Struggling not to weep happy tears at the depths of her feelings for this brave, talented, tortured and loving man, Ana says, "Just realized that there's something we do that you've never done with anyone else; we're going to tenderly and gently make love to each other."

Helping her with the knots once she's released one of his wrists, Christian's voice holds only love when he agrees, "Yes, dear."

* * *

Now showered, dressed, fed and fucked, Christian is practically whistling as he makes his way to Carla's door. A polite rap is ignored, a slightly more insistent one is answered with a bleary and belligerent, "All right, already." On opening the door, Carla looks a little guilty and holds her robe closer around her body as she says, "Christian. Everything okay?"

"Everything is wonderful, Carla. But it's time to get dressed. Pru is taking us on a tour of the countryside, finishing with lunch at the pub where she works. More snow fell overnight, so dress warm."

"I'm sorry, Christian, but I'm not feeling well today."

Quickly taking in everything about her appearance—clammy skin, one hand clutching her stomach, bloodshot eyes almost shut against the light, the fact that she's leaning on the doorjamb as if she can't stand unaided—Christian is immediately concerned. "Yes, you don't look well. Can I do anyth…?"

Following his glance into the room, Carla guesses what caught his attention and says, "Uh, Bree and I made a night of it." Misinterpreting his glare, she hurriedly adds, "Oh, but she didn't have much. I'm sure she's fit for work this morning."

Ignoring her feeble attempts to stop him, Christian pushes past into the room, saying, "Bree's an alcoholic. She hasn't touched a drop in over twenty years. Plus, she was with Ana and the girls in town until late. You need more practice lying, Carla." Then lifting the practically empty vodka bottle from its insufficient hiding place under the bed, he holds it up and adds, "Though I'm guessing you've had quite a bit of practice already. How long?"

Somehow managing to not look at the bottle, even as he gestures with it, Carla holds the door open and says, "I don't know what you're talking about. Now, I really am feeling under the weather. You kids go have fun. I'll catch up with you later."

He knows this game. Hell, he played it with his parents often enough. Not yet angry, he calmly says, "I'm not going anywhere until you start telling me the truth. So, unless you want others to hear this conversation, I suggest you close that door."

Somewhat subdued, Carla pleads, "All right. But I need to use the bathroom. Can we do this another time?"

Even in the stately opulence of Elspeth Hall, not every room has an en suite, with Ana receiving such dispensation because she's pregnant. So Christian knows Carla will have to head down the corridor. The possibility of her fleeing in a robe and night clothes seems remote, especially through a fresh snowdrift, so he shrugs and says, "I'll wait."

Now avoiding even his gaze, Carla grabs her handbag and leaves without a word. When she's gone, he notices the untouched vanity bag and guesses that she's destroying evidence while away. But it won't do her any good, now that he has an answer for her seemingly inconsistent behavior; not just on this journey, but throughout Ana's life. A remembered conversation from yesterday suddenly makes sense. A quick check of recent emails on his brand new Blackberry provides evidence that only he might recognize. By then Carla has returned, looking much better, having bothered to brush her hair and dab on a little makeup. Again, a pointless exercise; he saw her without the armor. He remains silent, giving her this chance to choose honesty.

Smiling, she cheerfully lies, "I misspoke earlier, sorry. I was barely awake, after all. It was Barb, not Bree." Forcing a small laugh, she adds, "No wonder you were confused."

_Game on, Mommie Dearest._ "I just checked receipts for this trip. In every single place we've stayed, you've apparently left the minibar untouched; not even a bottle of water or bag of cashew nuts, even though I told you to help yourself. So you must have paid in cash, because you knew I'd find out if you charged it to the room. Yesterday, Nan was asking who left money in the liquor cabinet when they took an opened bottle of booze; she doesn't require such consideration from family, but you couldn't have known that. And, it was vodka, the choice of secret drinkers everywhere. Plus, I'd be willing to bet my entire fortune that there's now a hip-flask or half-bottle hidden in the bathroom you just left." Confirmation, if he needed it, is in the flicker of panic in her eyes before the no doubt well-worn mask of nonchalance falls back into place. Giving no sign that he noticed this silent confession, Christian continues, "But you needn't have bothered. I'm not going to force you to fix this, because only you can do so. How long have you had a drinking problem?" When she remains stubbornly and defiantly silent, he more gently continues, "I drank heavily and secretly for about five years, beginning when I was ten years old. Not even Ana knows that much, though she's aware that I occasionally drink to excess and will always struggle with that urge when I'm under great strain."

Her eyes widening at this revelation, Carla says, "But…I've seen you drink; you only ever have one or two."

Knowing she'll understand, he simply says, "Exactly; more becomes dangerous and, if I intend to get drunk, I'll drink alone."

There; right there, he sees comprehension and surrender. Lowering her head to stare at her hands as they twitch over each other in distress, Carla quietly confesses, "On and off pretty much since Frank died…though I was a wild teen, too. Ana doesn't know. Bob suspects, I think, but I've gotten very good at hiding it. Only Ray really knows. It's one of the reasons we broke up. When things aren't going well, I…" Then blinking several times as she fights the urge to cry, Carla begs, "Please don't tell Ana."

Not yet to the point where he knows what to do about Carla's secret, Christian ignores the question and asks, "How bad is it? Do you get the shakes when you can't drink?"

Biting her bottom lip in that subconscious gesture of disquiet that he's familiar with from her daughter, Carla merely shakes her head.

"You usually stop at three drinks. What happened last night?"

Still wringing her hands in distress, Carla says, "I got scared. I've let Ana down in so many ways, and I truly want to make up for it as a Grandma, but….that child almost drowning…that could have been Ana, because I was so often alone with her, and I couldn't…" The tears finally start falling as she simply repeats, "I got scared."

"You're worried that you'll let her down again; her and the baby." Though it wasn't a question, she nods, and Christian takes a deep breath before revealing, "The last time I got drunk was the night she told me that I'm going to be a father. You're not the only one who lives with the fear of fucking things up. But if vodka is your standard coping mechanism, then you have a decision to make." At Carla wary, questioning look, he explains, "Unless you get sober, and I mean _really_ sober; rehab and therapy, then you will _never_ be alone with my children. And, I've never lied to Ana; if she asks me why, I'll tell her."

As if he's punched her, Carla crumples and sits on the bed, head falling to her hands as she wails, "I can't…I don't know if I can do it."

Squatting before her, Christian gently pulls her hands away from her face, so she'll look at him, and earnestly commands, "You can. It won't be easy. But you _can_ do this. For now, you have an hour to get ready…maybe reapply your makeup; you look like a raccoon."

Managing a weak laugh, Carla asks, "Why are you so good to me?"

Standing, helping Carla to her feet as he does so, Christian says, "Ana loves you. Hardly scientific, I know. But it's good enough for me." Suddenly remembering, he asks, "Is this why you don't drive?"

"Yes. There was always someone…some boy, willing to drive me anywhere I needed when I was younger. Frank was going to show me how, but…anyway, I figured that, if I didn't know how to drive, I could never put Ana in that much danger. Bad enough that I…" Her expression entreating, it's virtually a whimper when Carla asks, "Do you think she could ever forgive me?"

Daring to put his hands either side of her face, Christian kisses her forehead and says, "I'm certain of it." Then heading for the door, he says, "One hour, Carla. If you're not ready, I'll come get you."

"What about…?"

Christian turns to see her pointedly glancing at the vodka bottle, now sitting on the nightstand. "Like I said, Carla, _you_ have a choice to make. I can pay for your rehabilitation if necessary, lend a supportive ear and be a shoulder to cry on. But that will be the extent of my involvement, and only if you ask for help. It's up to you. For now, I'm going to pretend this conversation never happened and hope that Ana is right to put her faith in you."

Carla is again weeping, but nods her comprehension. He's closing the door on her when she quietly prays, "Me, too."

Christian isn't quite to his room when he encounters Lea. "Oh, sir. I was just on my way to see you. There're news' vans parked outside the gate this morning; presumably a reaction to that incident at the lake yesterday. With your permission, I'd like to contact the company and put some people on it; make sure none of them get too pushy? Extra expense, of course, but it'll make life easier for you and Mrs. Grey."

Not very surprised, Christian offers a wry grin and says, "No good deed goes unpunished, right? Yes, call your boss; put as many on it as you think we need. Thanks, for thinking of it. Nigel preparing the car?"

Suddenly looking embarrassed, for the first time since he's known her, Lea says, "Uh, no. He's…unofficially, he thinks of you as his charge, with Mrs. Grey being my responsibility. Yesterday was the first time you've been in real danger since we took this gig, and he wasn't here."

Christian laughs and says, "Oh, he's sulking?" At her nod, he continues, "Well, if we have reporters to dodge, he'll get to show off his driving skills again."

"That's the other thing; Ms. Lambert…Ann, says that there's a seldom used track through the woods that will bypass the crowd, but I wasn't sure if you'd want to risk Mrs. Grey on it?"

Remembering how often, and how vigorously, they've fucked since she ran into his arms last night, Christian chuckles and says, "I think she'll be just fine, thank you. I presume Nigel will take it easy?"

"Yes, sir. And the precaution of snow chains, to match the terrain."

When she says nothing else, Christian continues towards his room, saying, "Good plan. Thank you."

"Yes, sir."

He hasn't long been back in the bedroom when there's a knock at the door. Ana answers it. "Mom. How are you? Christian said you weren't feeling well earlier? You're still coming with us, right?"

Carla is visibly distressed and audibly swallows before saying, "Uh, I'm fine, sweetie. I was wondering if we could talk? There's something I've been meaning to tell you for a while. And Christian helped me understand that it needs to be now."

Understandably utterly confused, Ana looks from her husband to her mother and back, saying, "Uh, okay…sure. Did you want Christian here for this?"

"He knows. So I don't mind, either way."

Suddenly feeling like an intruder, Christian makes the decision. "I think I'll check that everything is ready for our day trip. I'll be about thirty minutes." Bothering to kiss Carla's cheek on the way out, he adds, "Well done."

He doesn't need to check anything; that's why he has the best staff money can buy. Instead, he catches up on emails for thirty minutes, then returns to the room and knocks, opening it only when Ana bids him enter. She's alone, sitting in an armchair and has obviously been crying. Only now afraid what she might think of his involvement, he nervously asks, "Are we okay?"

When Ana reaches out an entreating hand to him, he knows that he's in the clear, and gratefully drops to his knees beside her, taking her hand and putting an arm around her shoulders.

"My mother is an alcoholic."

"Actually, I don't think it's quite that bad, sweetheart. She's easily able to drink a moderate amount and stop, and it sounds like she's dry for long stretches at a time. But I agree that she has a big problem, and needs professional help to get over this. What did she tell you?"

Fighting the urge to weep, Ana reveals, "That's she often been at least a little drunk for most of my life, hung-over for a fair part of the rest. Fuck, everything makes so much sense now."

"Yes, that's almost exactly what I thought when I realized."

"You only knew this morning?"

"Yes, baby. Though, you should know, I would have kept her secret if she hadn't been ready to tell you; obviously, offering what assistance I could. But, now that she's come clean, we can _both_ help her get over this; help her be a better grandmother than she was a mother."

When Ana starts to stand, Christian guesses and lifts her into his arms before sitting down with her on his lap. Curled up as best as her pregnant form will permit, Ana apparently doesn't need more tears, but she does stay snuggled against him for several minutes, while he soothingly caresses her back.

Finally, she sighs and says, "Thank you, darling. If you hadn't gone to bully her, we might never have found out about this. I had no idea. She's already told Bob…poor guy; being woken in the middle of the night for this conversation. In her eagerness to get the ball rolling, she totally forgot about the time difference. Apparently, he wasn't very surprised and will look into rehab centers in Savannah, for when she returns. They'll let us know if they need money for it. I knew you wouldn't mind that I offered, and Mom said you already had, thank you. I feel…I honestly feel hopeful about this. Admitting that she has a problem and asking for help is the first big step, right?"

His heart aching at this brave acceptance of what she must know will be a difficult task, Christian promises, "Yes, baby. It's the biggest step. Everything will be all right now."

She's again quiet for a while and then quietly reveals, "I thought she was here to talk about Steve; you know, her third husband?"

Recalling that Ana's usually sharp instincts warned her to be wary of the guy, Christian can't keep the anger from his voice as he says, "I remember."

"Yes, he did abuse her…though Mom describes it as slapping her around a little. Apparently, he _is_ an alcoholic, and a mean drunk. I knew there was something off about him. Thank God she had the sense to get away from him."

"Thank _all_ the Gods that you did. Can I hurt him, yet?"

Managing a small laugh, Ana looks up and rests a hand on the side of his face as she says, "Not on my account." Her grin confirming that she's joking, she adds, "Though Mom might take you up on that offer." Then serious, she reaffirms, "I love you, Christian."

Because it's worked in the past, and she obviously needs cheering up, Christian grins and says, "You kind of want to fuck me right now, don't you?"

* * *

Where credit's due: "Mommie Dearest" is a 1981 film, adapted from a book of the same name, supposedly detailing the life of Joan Crawford. If you've seen it, you'll know that assigning Carla that nickname is a little harsh, but Christian didn't say it out loud, and he was pretty angry at the time.


	44. Chapter 44

Author's warning: In the extremely unlikely event that you're British and intimately familiar with the names "Mark Tissiman" and "Sarah James", together, you might want to give this one a miss, and I apologize for the reminder.

* * *

Chapter Forty-four

Christian orchestrates a moment alone with Bree before he heads to the car. "Did you know that Carla has a drinking problem?"

Her eyebrows shooting up in surprise, Bree says, "No, sir. She was hung-over that first morning, but it didn't seem out of place, given that several of her in-laws were in the same state. And I haven't noticed anything suspicious…not that I was looking. Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Okay, thanks."

Frowning, Bree asks, "Why did you mention this, sir? Of course, I won't say anything, but you're usually pretty tight-lipped about…well, everything."

Smiling a little at that, Christian says, "True enough. I just wondered…I don't think she's actually physically addicted, which means the prognosis is good, if we can get her a decent shrink. And…fuck, you know why I thought you might have spotted signs of addiction." Unable to remain impassive, he can feel his ears redden as he hints at how much he knows of Bree's past.

Apparently unconcerned, Bree nods and says, "Your researchers are thorough. Thank you, for recognizing that I could still be of benefit to Mrs. Grey."

Glad that he hasn't offended this caring, compassionate and extremely capable woman, Christian grins and reveals, "Our wedding cake had the words, 'Every saint has a past—"

"Every sinner has a future," laughs Bree, then revealing a silver bracelet on one wrist with the very quote inscribed around it. "I think that everyone gets to royally fuck up once in their life, if you'll pardon my French, sir."

Smiling, Christian is suddenly moved to plead, "I'll pardon it if you move to Seattle." Again expressing shock, Bree still hasn't replied when he more seriously continues, "I'm not a fool. Ana will have to endure chemotherapy and maybe radiotherapy after our son is born. And, even with that, she'll…"

When he doesn't continue, Bree doesn't quite touch his arm in sympathy as she confirms, "There's a good chance that you'll both have to go through this again in about five years."

A solid block of restrained tension, Christian clips, "Yes."

He knows, from her rueful expression, that she'll refuse him. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sure you'd make it worth my while, financially. And I genuinely enjoy working for both of you. But my home, my family, and his ashes are here."

Not very surprised, Christian is able to summon a genuine smile and say, "Some of us only love once, don't we?"

"Yes, sir. In my experience, once is enough, if you do it right."

* * *

Meanwhile, Ana has likewise ambushed Pru and, after a typically exuberant greeting, asks, "Uh, Mom and I are…would you mind sitting beside Christian in the car? I feel the need to be close to my Mommy, today."

Her eyes sparkling with humor, Pru somehow manages to keep a straight face when she grasps Ana's forearms for a second and "solemnly" vows, "Babe, for you, I'd even sit in his lap."

Ana laughs and says, "No, you fucking won't. Thanks. Now I just have to convince Christian."

Still with a hint of a grin, Pru vows, "I'll behave myself, I promise. You and Carla okay?"

Still a little in shock from her mother's revelation, Ana says, "Yeah, I think so. She…just you, okay?" When Pru finally appears serious and crosses her heart, Ana continues, "She might…she _has_ a drinking problem."

"Fuck. For how long?"

"Forever, near as I can tell; only found out this morning when she 'fessed up and promised to get professional help. It explains so much that was confusing as hell when I was a kid. I…" With a stilted attempt at laughter, Ana reveals, for the first time, to anyone, "I actually wondered…sometimes, I thought she didn't want me around, because I reminded her of my father."

"Fuck." Obviously about to add something, Pru instead shuts her mouth, is silent for a several seconds, then manages a wry grin and adds, "Just 'fuck'!"

Incredibly relieved that Pru is so supportive…in her own, coarse way, Ana spontaneously hugs her cousin/friend and says, "I'm so glad you're here. Please come to the States, real soon. I'll even send the jet for you."

Pru retreats from the embrace and affectionately punches Ana's arm, saying, "Send a fucking jet for me. Who the hell are you people?"

Ana giggles, feeling somehow…lighter, just having told someone her biggest fear, and says, "We're your colonial cousins, so you'd better get used to it."

"Fair enough." Grabbing her purse and gesturing that they should head out, Pru continues, "In that case, you can pay for lunch. Which I suppose will be a very dry affair, because I don't like to drink alone."

"You think Mom will stop drinking right away?"

Pru shrugs and says, "That's what happened whenever my dad tried to quit."

"Your dad had a drinking problem?"

"_Has_, babe. Though I'm guessing he can't get hold of anything stronger than light Limeade since diabetes, cirrhosis and other consequences put him into hospice care."

Mortified that this permanently cheerful and affectionate woman has suffered _any_ hardship, Ana can only think to say, "Fuck, I'm sorry, Pru."

Another shrug and Pru reveals, "It's okay. I got out of there when I was thirteen. Nan took me in and I've lived here ever since. She's been a better parent to me than either Mum or Dad."

"Fuck."

Pru laughs, that wonderful and—given what she's endured—surprisingly carefree sound, then says, "Nan doesn't like that word, but sometimes nothing else will do, right?"

Finally leading them through the house, Ana agrees, "Exactly. Though I use it a lot more since meeting Christian."

Pru practically cackles and teases, "_Do_ it more, too, I'm guessing."

With a half-hearted glare and an immediate flush to her cheeks and neck, Ana mutters "Shut up," not quite able to meet Pru's gaze.

Suddenly grabbing her cousin's arm and peering at her face, Pru hisses, in a loud whisper, "Fuck; he's your first."

Apparently still unable to discuss this subject without feeling embarrassed, Ana's blush only deepens. Since it's pretty much an admission, anyway, she confesses, "My only."

Glancing around for a second, Pru drags Ana through a door—apparently, into a large linen closet; the light automatically switching on as they enter—and nervously whispers, "I've never…you know."

Genuinely shocked, given the teenager's constant flirting and innuendo, Ana is stunned into silence for a while, then says, "Uh, okay. And we needed to urgently have this conversation in a cupboard because?"

Actually blushing—Ana wasn't even sure if the younger woman was capable of doing so—Pru meekly confesses, "I like Nigel."

"Oh, my God; is that why you were trying to get him to dance last night? He got very annoyed, as I recall. I told you he's not allowed to do stuff like that when he's on duty."

"I know. I'm sorry. But I'd had a few cocktails and…fuck, he's gorgeous, isn't he?"

Ana laughs and says, "Sure, if you like that tall, dark, incredibly muscular look. I still don't get why we're having this conversation in a cupboard, and we're going to be late."

"He likes me. I _know_ he does. I've never fucked, but I've been around guys enough to know when one is attracted to me. And we nearly did it the other night. But, when I told him that I've never…he said that I'm too young for him."

Wondering if the word "virgin" freaks out all good men, Ana asks, "How old is he; can't be more than thirty?"

"He's twenty-nine. That's only ten years. You and Christian are about the same, right?"

"Bit less. Pru, can you please get to the point? They're probably all waiting for us."

"Well, how did you get _your_ man? Does the age difference matter much day-to-day? And was the sex good the first time? I've heard it hurts."

_Oh, fuck. _"Uh, Pru, I'm hardly the expert on men. Isn't there an older woman who can help you out with this stuff?"

"I'm only really close with Nan, and there's no fucking way I'm asking a woman in her seventies about sex; especially one who never married. Besides, I don't know what would be worse; me finding the courage to ask and her not knowing anything useful, or darling old Nan having all the answers."

Laughing at Pru's comical expression of disgust, Ana relents. "Okay. But can we do this later? I don't want to spend hours in the car with a grumpy Christian."

Pushing the door open, Pru says, "Technically, _I'll_ be with a grumpy Christian, but—"

"Why would I be grumpy?"

Having bounced off his chest as she exited, Pru almost falls and is easily righted by Christian as she exclaims, "Fuck! You scared the shit out of me. Why are you lurking out here like a perv, and how much did you hear?"

Giving no clue as to what he's feeling, Christian says, "I was making my way to the car and heard Ana's laughter coming from a closet, so thought I'd investigate. Why would I be grumpy?"

Wondering just how much trouble she's in, Ana moves into the corridor, explaining, "Uh, I was hoping that you wouldn't mind sitting next to Pru, so that I can spend some time with Mom? Pru knows why."

Clearly disappointed with the plan, Christian studies Ana for a few seconds then says, "Sure, baby. If that's what you want." Then eyeing them both, he asks, "And the reason you needed to have this conversation in a linen closest?"

Unwilling to betray Pru's confidence, Ana settles for, "Uh, we also had secret women's business to discuss."

His guarded, frowning expression making her certain that he'll want more information later, Christian nevertheless says, "All right." Then offering Pru his elbow, he suggests, "Shall we?"

Grinning, Pru slips her arm through his and glances back at Ana to say, "I could get used to this."

Not genuinely concerned, Ana says, "I wouldn't, if I were you."

Apparently now at ease, Christian stage-whispers to Pru, "Better behave yourself; my wife can be just a teensy bit jealous." Confident that he can take it, when he's in such a good mood, Ana thwacks him on the butt; the sound of it loud in the empty corridor. Worried that she's overstepped the mark, when he suddenly stops and his body tenses, she only remembers to again breathe when, without looking around, he leads Pru on, saying, "Like I said."

* * *

Carla is already in the car, and is clearly surprised when Ana takes the seat next to her, saying, "Okay if I sit with you today?"

With a glance at Christian, who only smiles, Carla nervously says, "Sure, honey."

With all his passengers secured and ready, Nigel starts the engine. Seated behind his wife and mother-in-law, Christian watches as Ana silently rests her open hand on the armrest as an invitation to her mom, who hesitates only a moment before accepting the selfless gesture. He can't see Carla's face, but he'd bet good money that there are grateful tears in her eyes. On noticing that Pru has also seen and is watching his reaction, he smiles and murmurs, "That's my wife."

Pru grins and says, just as quietly, "Yes, you're a lucky bastard." Relaxing in his seat, to pursue one of his favorite past-times—watching Ana—Christian smiles again when Pru adds, "She's lucky, too."

The alternative route off the estate proves effective at dodging the reporters, though slow-going, with mud and snow on the track. Ana wonders about the unfamiliar face guarding this secondary exit, until the uniformed stranger opens the gate and waves them through. After a stop at West Stow, for a fascinating and fun tour of the replica Anglo-Saxon village, they soon arrive at the enchanting market town of Bury St Edmunds. When Nigel parks near the Old Cannon Brewery, Ana asks Pru, "This is where you work?"

"You bet. I know you're not drinking, but you can actually watch the beer being made, so I thought you might like a tour?"

After glancing at Christian and Carla, to see that there are no objections, Ana says, "Sounds like fun. But can we eat, first?"

"Sure thing, babe. Oh, unless you're _very_ hungry, ask for a light main; the food is really good and locally sourced, but the meals are humungous."

Beaming, Ana promises, "I'm starving."

Mirroring the smile, Pru says, "In that case, I suggest the Suffolk ham, chestnut and wild mushroom pasta, followed by steamed lemon pudding with custard. You won't need to eat until you get back to America."

Laughing, Ana says, "Sounds perfect, thank you."

As promised, the food—identified on the menu as "Cannon Fodder"—is delicious and satisfying. Ana watches, fascinated, as Pru interacts with her colleagues, who obviously respect her a great deal—including the owner, Mitch. She catches Nigel studying Pru a couple of times. He notices her gaze on one of these occasions and Ana is shocked when he blushes a little before resuming a more professional vigilance, making her wonder if perhaps he _does_ have feelings for Pru.

She's certain of it when, as they're leaving after their tour of the brewery, her effusive cousin receives an affectionate kiss or embrace from each of the predominantly male staff, and the normally impassive (at least while on duty) security officer's mien becomes increasingly dark; practically livid with jealous resentment when Mitch farewells Pru with a hug, a kiss on the cheek and a few words in her ear that make her blush and lightly smack his arm in gentle rebuke. Nigel quickly brings himself under control and is once again businesslike as he leads them outside, though he avoids looking at Pru, further confirming Ana's theory.

There's no chance to privately discuss the matter with Pru, so Ana pushes it to the back of her mind as they all enjoy the highlights of the town, including enough shopping to please Carla, and concluding with a performance at the last working Regency playhouse in Britain; the Theatre Royal. Ana is amused on seeing that it's to be a rendition of _The Taming of the Shrew_ and, remembering his improvised punishment of her playing Katherina throughout their first actual date, shares a meaningful smile with Christian as they head to their seats. Wondering how she's going to manage to sit next to everyone, she's grateful when he selflessly suggests that she sit between Pru and Carla. Momentarily resting a hand on his chest, she murmurs, "Thank you, my lord."

She recognizes the signs of arousal on his face and he kisses her cheek before promising, for her ears alone, "Tonight, you're mine."

Suddenly realizing that anyone seeing them interact will guess that they're lovers, Ana doesn't bother to whisper, "Forever yours."

It's a small cast, on a small stage, but Ana finds that she's thoroughly enjoying the performance. Despite having read the story many times, she's never seen a live rendition. In fact, she'd never seen any professional play before meeting Christian…never done a lot of things. As the familiar tale unfolds, she finds herself, not for the first time, feeling a feminine outrage at the oft-debated sexism, misogyny and downright cruelty featured in the plot. As the saga unfolds, she feels increasingly uncomfortable—even claustrophobic—seemingly unable to stop herself from making comparisons between the main characters and her marriage. Reluctant to appear ungrateful of Pru's efforts to make the day special, she reins in her thoughts and forces herself to focus on the acting, so that she's able to genuinely offer her appreciation as the curtain closes for intermission.

Still, she can feel an undercurrent of disquiet, that she can't quite identify, as the women make their way to the bathroom. She's both mortified and grateful when Pru clutches her arm and bypasses the line, loudly proclaiming, "Make a hole, people; pregnant woman, coming through."

Anyone objecting to this imposition isn't game to voice their disapproval. So Ana's soon in the lobby with Christian; who's braved the busy concession stand to buy her a bottle of water and a snack, apologizing, "Nothing healthy, I'm afraid." Again, she's forced to rein in her overactive imagination when she looks at her husband and instead sees Petruchio, in those deliberately ridiculous wedding clothes. This time she has to actually shake her head a little to restore focus. Of course, her super-attentive husband notices something is amiss and asks, "Okay, baby?"

It's not a lie when she says, "I'm a little tired."

"Want to head back?"

Pru and Carla are approaching, so Ana merely shakes her head and says, "I'm fine."

But she's not; the second half of the play only increases the trapped feeling, until she finally identifies the emotion building within: anger. Trying to think what Christian has done recently that might have caused it, she comes up blank; he's pretty much been perfect. Still, her unruly brain keeps comparing scenes on the stage to scenes from her life, until she's ready to scream. Instead, she whispers "Pregnant woman, coming through," to Pru, who smiles at the instruction as she makes room for Ana to pass by.

The only other person between Ana and freedom is Christian, but he proves too much of a barrier, standing and escorting her to the bathroom. Of course, Lea follows and insists on checking the empty cubicles; for what…squatting ninjas? Finally, and surprisingly, alone in the sanctuary of the ladies', Ana silently orders herself to snap out of this mood, even as she pees; staying longer than is necessary because of the lengthy, wordless pep talk. But simmering resentment still lingers while she washes and dries her hands. She's staring at her reflection—she really does look tired—muttering "Just get through this. You can do it," and other such useless instructions, when the door opens to reveal her husband; his expression guarded...it so often is. "Christian; you can't be in here!"

Waving away her concerns, he says, "Lea's running defense; she'll let us know if anyone's coming in. Are you going to tell me what the fuck is going on with you?"

"In case you've forgotten, I've got a baby resting against my bladder."

"That's not what I fucking mean, and you know it. Why are you so upset with me that you're hiding in a restroom?"

She's thus far managed to avoid lying to him, so closes her mouth on a dismissal of his concerns and takes a deep breath before explaining, "The play; it's getting to me. I keep comparing…remember we pretended to be those characters?"

"Of course I fucking remember. It was only months ago. And I'll _never_ forget our first date…my first ever. I also recall that you enjoyed that evening, very much." Then offering his upturned palms, in the universal gesture of supplication, Christian gently asks, "Just tell me what I'm doing wrong, baby, because you must know by now that I'll fix it; whatever you need."

Of course, he's right; he has proven time and again that he truly is willing to do anything for her. If she asked him for all the planets on a string, he'd find a way to make it happen. Shaking her head in pained confusion, Ana covers her face as a few, frustrated tears force their way between her lids. "I don't know. I don't know."

She's in his arms, immediately calmed by his presence, so knows that he speaks the truth when Christian suggests, "Maybe you're not angry with me at all?"

Even so, it takes a few seconds before Ana works it out and lifts her head to look at him, her hands resting on his chest as she asks, "Mom?"

Concern evident in his gaze, Christian says, "Maybe. Grace went through something similar when she found out I'd been drinking."

"Oh, when you were drunk at fourteen?"

She knows it's something he's not proud of when that one-shouldered shrug betrays his guilt before he says, "Actually, I was often drunk from the age of ten, until Elena cured me of the habit."

"What? But…how? I mean, how could you get away with drinking at that age?"

"I was smart and had a generous allowance. Despite, at that time, maintaining excellent grades, I'd already 'fallen in with a bad crowd' as they say. So I persuaded one of the older boys, who had a decent fake ID, to buy me booze. I'd stash it in the woodshed, slip out of my room after everyone was asleep and stare at the water while I drank. It didn't stop the nightmares, but it gave me the courage to fall asleep. Anyway, after Mom caught me that time, she stepped up her attempts to find a shrink who could really help me, and discovered Flynn; he insisted on both my parents attending the first session." With a deep sigh and a hand through his hair, Christian continues, "Mom was already on the edge…probably almost out of her head with worry about me, but she…fuck, she was only supportive; never once making me think that the drinking was evil, or even bad, just something that needed to be fixed. She took it out on herself and Dad, instead; angrily asking what they should have done differently. Though they were always careful to argue in private, they couldn't keep it secret from me. So I knew…fuck, this is hard."

Sorry to have caused him more anxiety, when he hasn't done anything wrong, Ana runs her fingers through the hair at his temples and says, "We don't have to do this right now, baby. I'm feeling better. And I sort of get what you're trying to say. How about I hijack your session, tonight? We could both talk to him." This far from his therapist, and a long way from cured, Christian has been continuing his biweekly sessions with Flynn via video calls.

With a grateful smile, Christian says, "Good idea. You'd already been in here ages before I came looking for you, so we'd better get back."

Suddenly flooded with guilt, Ana can't quite meet his eyes when she says, "I'm so sorry, darling. I don't know why—"

Lifting her gaze with a firm hand on her chin, Christian interrupts, "Hey, I understand, okay? For now, just have fun. Oh, speaking of which, you spanked me."

Amazed at the sudden mood shift, as his gaze darkens with carnal hunger, Ana giggles and says, "Well, more sort of gently thwacked you with the back of my hand, really. But, yes. You're not angry about that?"

With a fierce grin, Christian tightens the embrace, his arousal evident through several layers of clothing, and declares, "Fucking furious."

Idly wondering what he sees in her face, in that moment, when his desire apparently increases, Ana grins and says, "Perhaps some furious fucking might help?"

Controlling his response with a deep, shuddering breath, Christian passionately kisses her—his lips, tongue and teeth exacting a temporary punishment/reward from her—then promises, "Later. Want me to sit next to Carla?"

Considering for a moment, Ana says, "No. I really am okay, for now. I think some part of my brain just realized that her alcoholism means I missed out on a _lot_; not just because she was often indisposed, but the economic cost of a secret drinking habit, too. But she would have done it differently, if she possibly could, right? And I want to check with Flynn before I broach the subject with her."

Christian kisses her again, tenderly this time, and says, "She's lucky to have you." When there's a knock at the door, he silently ushers Ana out as a woman enters, her face transforming with shock on seeing a man. Christian gestures to Ana's rounded belly, then mimes wiping his ass and says, "Poor thing can't quite reach anymore."

Ana nearly chokes in her effort to not laugh at the stranger's horrified, then sympathetic expression, and hurries through the door muttering an apology. In the lobby, she smacks Christian's arm and protests, "I can reach!"

With a very smug grin, Christian asks, "You'd rather she thought we were doing something else in there? She'd never believe we were just talking."

"Oh. Right. Then, thank you."

They're now in the auditorium, so he more softly says, "You're welcome, Mrs. Grey."

Of course, as Ana sits down, Carla whispers, "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

Thanks to Christian's intervention, she's able to honestly answer, "Yes, I'm fine."

The play finishes to appreciative applause. Ana finally manages a comparatively private moment alone with Pru and quietly reveals, "I think you're right: I think Nigel likes you. He looked ready to rip out your boss' throat when you said goodbye."

Her face expressing delight, then confusion, Pru says, "Mitch? But he's a doll, and happily married."

"He's also good-looking, and whispered something which embarrassed you as he hugged you."

Pru blushes, for the third time today, and reveals, "He was, uh, saying that you're hot."

Ana bursts out laughing, immediately quelling it when the sound is loud even in this crowded lobby, and says, "Oh. So, he's not interested in you?"

Pru laughs and says, "No, babe; just his wife and hot Americans, apparently. So, you really think Nigel likes me?"

"I do. Wanna brainstorm about it, tonight? We've only got a couple of days before I leave, and we need a strategy…something to get his attention and make him realize he can't live without you."

Her smiling face confirming that she's incredibly grateful, Pru quietly jokes, "Steady on, babe, we don't even know if he's a good shag, yet."

They're still giggling when Christian approaches to tell them it's time to go, then raising an eyebrow as he asks Ana, "Feeling better?"

"Much. I'm going to hang with Pru for a bit this evening."

"Do you remember we have that video call?"

She'd managed to forget all about suggesting a session with Flynn, but shrugs and says, "I can do both. Pru and I just have more of that secret women's business to discuss."

She knows that he won't like it; that he's fighting the urge to interrogate both of them. But he manages a smile and says, "All right."

Ana smiles at Pru, who takes the hint and moves over to where Carla and Lea wait nearby. Moving into his arms, Ana offers a kiss that is readily accepted, then says, "Are you aware that you say exactly those words when you're struggling to trust me, because you don't have all the information?"

Smiling a little, Christian comments, "I take it, from your reaction, that's a good thing?"

"It's a good thing that I've heard it enough to detect the pattern."

"I guess so. I'm not sure I had a phrase for this feeling before I met you, because you're the only person for whom I've ever conceded this much."

"That's what I'm trying to say. I understand what you do for me, and I'm grateful."

He's suddenly at least a decade younger when he asks, "How grateful?"

Leading him towards her family, Ana promises, "Later."

After a lot of walking, and a huge meal, most of the occupants of the luxury vehicle are dozing on the way back to Elspeth Hall. Christian is, of course, staring at Ana; diagonally in front of him. The seat is reclined a little, her eyes closed and her face tilted slightly to one side, thankfully towards him. Just watching her is enough to make his chest literally ache, as if mere flesh and bones are insufficient to contain the depths of his feelings for her.

With all his attention consumed by Ana, he hasn't seen the danger when Lea practically screams "One o'clock," even as Nigel throws the Range Rover into an evasive maneuver, jostling everyone within, as he yells, "Fuck!"

Another Range Rover, heading towards them at freeway speeds, is towing a medium-sized yacht. Christian watches in impotent horror as the currently horizontal mast, somehow unsecured, is swinging free and coming at them like a jousting pole, only much more deadly. It shatters the rear passenger window and an explosion of glass and sound is all he knows for a few seconds. Nigel somehow brings the car to a screeching halt on the side of the road without hitting anything, or even causing the airbags to deploy. Immediately, the interior of the car erupts with desperate cries, Christian releasing his seatbelt with trembling hands and diving forward, frantically calling Ana's name.

Visibly shaken, and covered in tiny, irregular beads of safety glass, Ana exclaims, "I'm okay. I'm fine. What happened? Did we hit something?"

Not satisfied with her reassurances, Christian anxiously checks her for injuries, even as Nigel does the same for Carla, while Lea brusquely says, "I'll secure the scene."

It's Ana who asks, "Why is Pru quiet?"

* * *

Where credit's due: infamouschelsea, for improving my English. If you've not already checked out this self-confessed "amateur" writer's contribution to FSoG fanfic, you won't be able to join me when I smugly claim, "I knew her before she sold her first book."

Cynthia74, for asking if Christian would confess to Ana that he had an ongoing drinking problem as a child.

Thank you, both. And to anyone who bothers to review; you not only keep me writing, but occasionally spark my imagination, too.


	45. Chapter 45

Author's warning: Just in case you didn't read the end of the last chapter; this contains a graphic description of a car accident aftermath, based on an actual event. So please approach with caution.

* * *

Chapter Forty-five

Five heads turn to see that Pru is either dead or unconscious, a bloody gash on her forehead, more blood trickling down her pale, inert face and a large section of the wooden mast imbedded in the headrest; looking for all the world as if it's attached to the top of her head.

So much happens at once. Christian orders Lea to call Emergency Services, only to be told that they're already on their way, even as he frantically searches for a pulse. Desperate to help, and quickly realizing that six seats and four doors means she's in the way, Ana moves to exit the car, but is stopped by Lea's grip on her wrist and the normally courteous, even solicitous, professional's voice is near panicked when she commands, "No, ma'am; traffic!"

"I just want to make room, but I can do that from here."

Ana is released and encroaches on Carla's space enough to fold up the seat and permit access to Pru, all the while fighting the urge to just curl up and weep. She's not quite done, so it can only be seconds later, when Christian gasps his relief and says, "She's alive. Pulse is weak, but it's there."

But it wasn't quite soon enough for Nigel, who bellowed his outrage and leapt out of the car to assist when he realized that Pru had been hit. He opens the rear door in time to hear that she has a pulse, but still confirms it, even as he repeatedly calls her name, begging her to wake up. With only room for one person to administer first aid, Christian slumps back in his seat, numbly staring at the scene for a moment before swiveling his gaze to Ana. Somehow, she finds the strength to offer him a weak smile, which he returns, despite the fact that he's white with shock. When he beckons, it doesn't feel like a choice as she clambers into his lap.

Meanwhile, the bizarre soundtrack to this chaos is Carla; a two-handed grip on the cross hanging around her neck, eyes clenched tightly shut and muttering the twenty-third psalm. Ana suddenly understands that this must be her mother's other coping mechanism, though she's never seen her so scared before, and then feels like shit when she remembers that the reason she never met her maternal grandparents is because they died in a car accident before she was born. Again, it's not something she really even thinks about when she reaches forward to rest a hand on Carla's shoulder and join her in prayer.

After exacting a promise from her charges that they'll stay in the car, Lea fetches the first aid kit and instructs Nigel, "I got this. Secure the scene." When he doesn't even seem to hear her, she rests a hand on his arm and more gently says, "Nudge, I got this. We have a job to do."

A shudder goes through the oak tree of a man and he nods once before complying. He retrieves something from the rear of the car and Ana recognizes the familiar—from Taylor's road safety lessons—flickering glow of LED flares as Nigel goes about making sure motorists can see the car, even in this rapidly fading light.

When Christian suddenly opens the door, she's at first worried, but he only sheepishly explains, "Just need some air." At Lea's nervous glance, though she doesn't stop treating Pru, he promises, "I won't go far."

With a nod, Lea explains, "It'll be touch and go who reaches us first; the paramedics or the reporters, and the gawkers will be here any second." Christian only nods his understanding, climbs out from under Ana and exits, to lean over, with his hands on his knees, as he fights to regain control of his body.

It's too much for Ana and she says "I'll be just outside," smiling her gratitude when Carla thinks to grab Ana's coat and hand it to her.

By the time she's ready for the bitingly cold air, Christian seems to be feeling better and readily accepts her embrace as he says, "Sorry. Hope I didn't worry you?"

"A little. You okay?"

"Yeah, I just…" With a nervous glance at Pru, still unconscious but now with a bandaged forehead and a blanket over her motionless form, he takes a deep breath and whispers, as if the words are too scary to say out loud, "She's shorter than you."

_Oh._ Looking at where the broken mast has impaled the headrest, Ana only then realizes that, if she hadn't swapped seats with her cousin for the day, she'd most likely be dead. The knowledge hits her like a kick to the stomach, and she suddenly understands that Christian turning pale and almost vomiting is an impressive display of control that wouldn't have been possible only months ago; with the idea of life without her being his one true hard limit. It's a few seconds before she recovers enough to comment, "I think Pru would say 'fuck'."

Christian manages a weak laugh and agrees, "Seconded." Again lowering his voice, he asks, "Your secret women's business is about Nigel?"

"Yes. You guessed from his reaction?"

"Yeah. I imagine that I would have made the same sound if you were in that seat. Plus, he's never used her first name before, certainly not within my hearing."

It's only been minutes since the accident. Even so, a few pedestrians are approaching—having abandoned their vehicles nearby—cameras and phones recording every moment of the excitement. Christian hisses his disgust and opens the door to reclaim their seat (safe behind tinted windows) just as they hear a car on the gravel behind them. Nigel has been waving all traffic past, so Ana glances towards the sound, surprised that she hadn't heard the siren, and sees a silver Range Rover with a white sailing dinghy in tow. Having been asleep at the moment of impact, she cannot be certain why Christian immediately tenses and spits out "Motherfucker," even as heads that way, ordering her to "Get in the fucking car and stay there," but she can guess.

He doesn't seem to hear her call his name as he walks away, but nods once when she more loudly says, "Christian, you promised!"

As she gets in the car, Lea is also anxiously watching the mini-drama unfold and asks, "He promised?"

With a nervous glance at a slightly recovered and now vigilant Carla, Ana reveals, "Uh, he was a bit wild in his younger days. But he's promised to never hit anyone in anger, unless I grant him permission."

Carla nods her understanding and says, "And you never will."

"I never will."

As the visibly shaken stranger, who unwittingly ruined their day, approaches with his hands raised in an instinctive defensive posture, it's Nigel who meets him and grabs the much shorter man by the front of his jacket to better verbally abuse him. Lea nervously begs, "Uh, Mrs. Grey, would you monitor Ms. Kent for me?"

Amazed that the woman can remain so detached as to use formal names, even now, Ana stammers, "Oh, uh, sure. But I only know basic first aid."

Smiling, though it looks a little forced, Lea is already exiting as she says, "That's all you'll need. Keep an eye on her pulse. Yell out if her condition changes at all."

"Got it."

One hand on the comforting pulse at Pru's wrist, the other holding her friend's hand, Ana asks, "Uh, Mom, can you find another blanket or coat? She feels a little cold to me."

"Of course, darling." Seconds later, Carla is tucking a full-length coat around Pru's body. Then taking a moment to stroke Ana's hair, she lovingly murmurs, "How are you so brave?"

"Uh, I'm not sure I am, Mom. I haven't done anything."

Carla smiles and sits down as she says, "You worked out that Pru was hurt. Almost immediately, you were doing what you could to help. Then you comforted me _and_ Christian, even reminding him that he'll be sorry if he loses his temper."

Ana laughs at that and says, "I'm not sure he would be. But he's determined to keep his promises to me, as best he can."

"I'm glad." They're quiet for a moment, both staring at Pru, willing her to wake, and then Carla gently says, "I love you, Anastasia."

Sparing a moment to reassuringly grasp Carla's arm, Ana promises, "I love you too, Mom."

Carla pats Ana's hand before it's removed, then grins and jokes, "And I could do with a drink about now."

It's barely audible, but they both hear Pru say "Me, too," just as the incredibly welcome sound of sirens is heard in the distance. "Fuck, my head hurts." Touching the mast, she adds, "What the fuck is this? Why can't I move? Fuck, babe, why are you crying?"

It's Carla who answers "Ana is just very glad to hear your voice, sweetheart," and leans her head out the shattered window to yell for Nigel.

Despite the fact that the remaining occupants hurry back to the car, Ana has time to joke through the tears, "Pru, honey, when I said that we need to get his attention, this is not what I meant."

Grinning, Pru asks, "He's cut up?"

A nervous laugh erupting from her, that Pru can look so happy at a time like this, Ana reveals, "Devastated."

It's all she has time for, because the door opens to reveal a terrified Nigel, who sees that Pru is awake and gasps before asking, "Pru! You okay? Say something."

Pru's pallor is still of concern and she's obviously in pain, but her smile is genuine when she accuses, "I knew you fucking liked me, you jerk."

Profound relief transforms even his posture, then Nigel practically falls into a kiss, which Pru readily accepts. Not lingering, he pulls back from her, excitedly babbling, "Now, don't move; you might have—" Cursing, when he bumps his head on the mast, he continues, "You might have damaged your neck, so keep still, okay?"

Apparently unable to stop smiling, Pru promises, "Okay."

By then, Christian is opening Ana's door, and she leans forward so that she'll end up in his lap. The flashing lights of the emergency vehicles, now surrounding them, illuminate the interior as he holds Ana close and dryly comments, "Interesting evening."

Pru laughs a little and says, "Yeah, you could fucking say that." Reaching a hand to her head, she fearfully asks Nigel, "Why can't I move?"

His jaw clenching in distress for a second, he reveals, "Because the mast has some of your hair, maybe even some of your scalp. I don't want to free you without a professional opinion."

Pru's utter confusion is almost comical when she asks, "Mast?"

Nigel doesn't have time to explain, as he makes way for a vividly reflective paramedic, and Lea informs Christian, "Sir? A company car is here. I've spoken to the police. We can leave now, if you'd like?"

"Please. But, how? You're based in London…oh, one of your guys at the estate?"

"Yes, sir. It's no luxury vehicle, but it'll get us out of here."

Only now noticing that she's still clutching Pru's hand, Ana raises it to her lips for a moment and says, "We'll catch up with you later at the hospital, okay?" Unable to turn her head, and with a stranger shining a torch in her eyes, asking inane questions, Pru merely squeezes Ana's hand in reply.

Then meeting Nigel's gaze, where he's hovering nearby—his face tight with concern—Ana silently pleads and he nods, vowing, "I'll stay with her."

Ana sits between Carla and Christian, holding hands with both of them, as they head back to Elspeth Hall in the replacement vehicle—another Range Rover—and she whispers, "I'm glad you decided to go with a minivan. I think that I've had my fill of Range Rovers, even custom-built ones."

Christian smiles a little and agrees, "Yeah." Then raising his voice a little, he says, "Lea; you'll pick up Ann Lambert and accompany her to the hospital?"

"Yes, sir; I can do that. I've already informed her of the situation. And we have enough staff at the house to keep an eye on things in my absence."

Surprised, Ana protests, "I told Pru that we'd go to the hospital."

Raising her hand to his lips for a moment, Christian kindly says, "And we will, baby, but not tonight. You're six months pregnant and been in a car accident. Now, you seem fine. So, if Bree is satisfied that you and Junior are okay, we can avoid the stress of an ambulance ride. They won't let us near Pru 'til morning, anyway. But Nan is her legal guardian, and she'll want to be there."

It makes sense, and she has some idea what it's costing Christian to keep calm with all that's happened, so Ana grins and corrects him, "Blip."

His expression swiftly changes from wariness to arousal, and Christian tenderly vows, "You'll be the death of me, Mrs. Grey."

"Probably, but you'll be a very old, very happy man when it finally happens," and readily accepts his lips on hers, as they celebrate being alive. Having actually forgotten her mom for a few seconds—forgotten everything but Christian—Ana turns to her, blushing, and apologizes, "Sorry, Mom."

Finally looking relaxed, Carla smiles and says, "Don't be. I'm just glad you're both okay."

Nan, and a few other occupants of the house—understandably distraught—are waiting in the driveway when they arrive. Delaying her only long enough to assure her that Pru was her usual foul-mouthed self when they last spoke, Ana embraces Nan, saying, "Give her my love." Surprisingly buoyed by the news of Pru's profanity, Nan offers no resistance when Christian lifts her into the car as Jerry folds and stores the wheelchair before also boarding.

Again consumed by worry for Pru, Ana silently asks for and receives a hug from Christian as the car drives away. She's amazed and impressed when he extends an arm around Carla's shoulders and steers them towards the house as he says, "Come on; Bree can poke and prod Ana, then a hot chocolate for each of us before dinner, I think?"

Ana expresses her gratitude by leaning into him, and Carla actually sounds almost in tears when she says, "Sounds good, Christian."

By the time dinner is served, they've informed those who care that they're safe, just in case the news report mentions names. Of course, the topic of tonight's conversation—before and after dinner—is the accident and Pru's condition; everyone only relaxing a little when they learn, hours later, that surgery to repair her scalp was a success and she's resting comfortably. Carla eventually excuses herself, when her phone chimes a message alert, and she explains, "That'll be Bob. I promised that we'd talk when he finished work."

Christian stands, helping Ana to her feet, as he says, "We'll walk you up."

They say their goodnights to Bree and the Lambert clan, walking to Carla's door in silence. Once there, Ana embraces her and asks, "You'll be okay?"

Her smile is tense, but Carla sounds sincere when she says, "Yes, darling, I feel…actually, I feel better about myself than I have for years, if that makes sense. I know there's a long way to go, but I feel optimistic that I can be what you need from now on. Thank you, for being so supportive."

"No problem, Mom. Say hello to Bob for me?"

"Will do. Night, darlings."

Soon safe in their room, Ana laughs a little and says, "She must like you; calling you 'darling' like that."

"Technically, all it got was the 's', but I do think she's warming to me." Then grinning, Christian adds, "I told you she'd like being bullied."

"Yes, you're very clever. Are we still having the session with Flynn?"

"No. You need sleep. I'll let him know what's happened and reschedule for tomorrow."

"All right. I _am_ tired."

"Get ready for bed. I'll email Flynn."

Even when Ana is finished in the bathroom, Christian is still at his laptop. "Long email?"

Christian rubs a weary hand over his face and says, "Basically turned into a session, anyway, with him asking all sorts of fucking questions, like he does." Closing the lid, he says, "But I'm done, now. He says it's okay to tell your mom what you're feeling about her alcoholism, so long as you don't bombard or badger her. Because the risk is that she'll feel punished for finally confessing. But that you have every right to your feelings…or some such shit. He'll tell you tomorrow. He wants to chat with Carla, too, after our session."

"Oh, okay. She'll have to get used to talking to a therapist anyway, right?"

"Yes. He's compiling a list of the best in her area."

Suddenly putting his laptop aside and rising to his feet, Christian wearily kisses her and says, "Right; a piss, a quick shower and a toothbrush for me. You, get into bed and think warm thoughts."

Ana stirs as Christian is getting into bed. Shuffling a little, so she can assume that perfect position, nestled against his chest, she's surprised when he wordlessly snuggles into her, instead; his head resting on her shoulder and one hand on her abdomen, silently communing with their son. Of course, deducing why he's upset, Ana reassures him, "We're both fine, darling. We're safe."

He remains quiet for several seconds, while Ana caresses a hand through his slightly damp hair, and then Christian says, "I don't know that I could raise him without you."

"Darling, you're pretty much going to do that, anyway…unless you've changed your mind about staying home?"

"No. I can do that. After all, I had a pretty fucking excellent example of what _not_ to do, right?"

Hoping his jovial tone is a sign he's already feeling better, Ana plays along, saying, "Yep. Step one: don't become a drug addict; check."

Christian lifts his head to kiss her and settles back into place as he says, "Exactly. And, what I mean is that, if you died, I don't know that I could…what if he looks like you?"

Suddenly worried that her private thoughts are somehow obvious, Ana snaps, "Did Flynn tell you to say that?"

Lifting his head at the harshness of her tone, a confused Christian says, "No, baby. Why do you ask?"

Relaxing a little, and remembering to trust her husband, Ana reveals, "Uh, the other part of the secret women's business; I'm worried Mom feels…felt, like that, too." Swallowing back the tears, she continues, "That I reminded her too much of my father, so she couldn't stand to look at me."

Staring into her eyes, as if he can actually see her thoughts, Christian asks, "That's why you were trying to be invisible when we met?"

"I guess so, but I think it was just habit by then. I remember, as a child, thinking that, if I could just be a good enough…quiet enough, Mom would pay attention to me. She was always pleading, 'Ana, darling, please be quiet for Mommy.' Of course, now I understand that she was often hung-over." Taking a deep, calming breath, she recalls Flynn's advice and says, "I'm so angry. But I don't feel like I can do anything with that anger. I mean, Mom's not well, is she? I can't be angry about that. And, looking back, I think she must have been careful to only drink after I'd gone to bed, so I wouldn't be in too much danger. She really did her best."

Quickly kissing her, Christian says, "Saint Anastasia. And I think you definitely need to mention this to Flynn. In the meantime, can I do anything?"

"You're feeling okay, now?"

"Yeah. I don't like reminders of how fragile life is, but all the more reason to enjoy it while we can, right?"

Satisfied that he's again strong, and still desperate for comfort, Ana grins and says, "Well, there is one thing you can do for me."

A lazy smile spreads over Christian's face, then his hand slides up to rest between her breasts as he asks, "Not too tired?"

Marveling at how this casual caress, or maybe the promise it contains, makes her nipples crinkle in anticipation, Ana promises, "No, Sir."

* * *

Though there are four people participating in this discussion, one of them is not actually in the room; John Flynn's presence represented by a digital image of his face on Christian's laptop screen. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Carla, though I think you'll agree the circumstances could be better."

Ana sees her mom nervously swallow before replying, so holds her hand as Carla says only, "Yes."

That incredibly reassuring voice, only slightly distorted by the distance between them, says, "Just relax, Carla. You won't be forced to do anything, and I'm not going to trick you into divulging more than you're comfortable with. This is merely a conversation, okay?"

It seems to work; Carla visibly relaxes and says, "Okay."

"Now, are you sure that you want Ana and Christian here for this?"

Finally confident, Carla replies, "Yes. No more secrets."

"That's a good start, though some things are not secret; merely private. But that's a discussion for another time. Now, Ana has filled me in on your confession and intentions. But would you please tell me, in your own words, why you want to commence therapy?"

"Uh, because I have a drinking problem, and I want to get over that…to find a safer, healthier way of coping with stress."

Flynn smiles and gently reminds her, "In your own words, Carla."

"Oh, uh…because…because…" Only when Ana instinctively clutches her mom's hand in both of hers, does Carla find the strength to conclude, "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

Smiling, Flynn says, "That's excellent work, Carla. You should be proud of yourself."

Sensing that they're done, Carla wipes away the few tears to ask, "That's it?"

"Have you ever said those words to anyone before?"

"Uh, no, never."

Again smiling, Flynn says, "Then that'll do for today. I just needed to be sure that you're doing this for the right reasons. It cannot be just for Ana, not even for your grandson, though they're both excellent motives to seek improvement. But your chances of success are greater if you're also doing this for you. Now, I'm going to send you a short list of names; one of them will be the person best suited to aid your recovery. You'll know after speaking with them. In the meantime, Ana has something she needs to say. But only if you're feeling strong?"

With a wary glance at Ana, Carla nervously says, "Okay."

Sounding like a kind parent gently chastising a child, Flynn cautions, "Carla. I said you won't be forced into anything. Please think about whether you'd rather skip this, for now."

"Uh, sorry." Taking a deep breath, Carla is looking at Ana when she adds, "I trust my daughter. I'm strong enough to hear anything she has to say…I _want_ to hear it."

"In case you missed it, that's your cue, Ana."

Not wanting to delay any longer, now that she has the perfect opportunity, Ana maintains her grip on Carla's hand and takes a deep breath before explaining, "I'm thrilled that you're taking this step, Mom, and I'm really proud of you. But I'm also angry that you were so often drunk or hung-over when I was a kid." When Carla merely clenches her jaw and nods, Ana continues, "I feel like…it's as if you often weren't even present throughout my childhood. I missed out on so much…missed out on a mom, all because you couldn't—"

Flynn interrupts to gently remind her, "Just your feelings, Ana."

With a glance at the computer screen, Ana nods and continues, "When you told me, about the drinking, I was shocked, at first. Then I started to feel angry and I didn't even know why. Christian and John helped me work out that what I was feeling was a child's hurt; that you apparently didn't…" She's weeping now, immediately answered by the tears silently rolling down Carla's cheeks, and finally finds the strength to continue, "That you didn't love me enough to stop drinking. And I often wondered…actually, I was certain, when I became old enough to see the similarities, that you couldn't stand to be around me because I look like my father."

Christian's warm hand on the small of her back offers enough comfort that Ana is able to avoid completely breaking down as a tearful Carla protests, "Not true, darling, not true. Sweetheart, you're all that kept me going. You saved my life. And…and as much as it hurt, seeing Frank in your eyes every time I looked at you, it also…somehow, it felt as if he wasn't really gone, so long as I had you. " Smiling through the tears, she concludes, "It still does. You're the best of both of us. I'm so sorry you ever doubted that. I'm so sorry."

Her greatest fear allayed, Ana is easily able to embrace her mother, murmuring barely coherent words of forgiveness, until they recover enough to wipe the tears away; nervously laughing as their movements mirror each other.

Flynn's now cheerful voice interjects, "Well, I'm calling this one a success. And that'll do for now. As you're both believers, we'll conclude today with all three of you joining hands and Carla can lead us in prayer."

Carla instinctively reaches out her hand to Christian, who stares at it as if she's suddenly become dangerous. Only when laughter is heard, does he look at the screen, to see that Flynn is holding a hand over his mouth in an attempt to keep quiet. Ana and Carla are already laughing, and the corners of Christian's mouth are twitching a little as he mutters "Fucker," even as he almost slams the lid down.


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter Forty-six

Pru spots them and cheerfully exclaims, "Babe! Where the fuck have you been? I'm so bored."

Christian answers with part of the truth, "My fault, Pru. Being the tyrant that I am, I insisted that Ana have a decent breakfast before we visited you. Now, did you make that list?"

Smiling, Pru hands over a piece of paper, saying, "Yeah, thanks. I'm guessing, since they told me that all expenses are being taken care of by a _Mr. Grey_, you won't let me pay for magazines and sweets?"

"Correct." Quickly kissing Ana, he says, "Back soon." Heading for the door, he adds, to Pru, "Nice hat."

"Fuck off."

Smiling slightly at the interplay between two of her favorite people, Ana gestures to the thick bandage covering most of Pru's head. "It _is_ quite a fashion statement."

Struggling to contain her smile, Pru says, "You can fuck off and all. Now give me a hug. I'm not as bad as this looks. And your money is paying for excellent painkillers, thank you."

Despite these reassurances, Ana very gently embraces Pru, then kisses her cheek and drags a chair close as she says, "I'm glad you're being looked after. But that was all Christian's doing. When I asked if we could do anything to help, he told me it was under control."

Suddenly serious, Pru says, "Well, thanks, to both of you. No way Nan or I could afford a private room and the best surgeon."

Confused, Ana says, "You're welcome. But…I thought Nan is loaded?"

"No, babe. Anything she has goes towards keeping that old place going." With a modest shrug, she continues, "I help out. But I don't make much. I have a feeling Mitch is going to promote me to manager when his baby is born, but his wife's not due 'til June next year."

Still bewildered, Ana says, "But…the staff…who pays them?"

"No one. They're all refugees like me; one way or another. They help out for the privilege of a roof over their heads, and a loving home environment. Most of them have jobs off the estate, too."

"Jerry?"

Pru nods and says, "The only other Lambert who lives with us; booted out by his parents at fifteen when they found out he had a boyfriend. When I told Nan, she didn't hesitate to offer him a room. He's been with us ever since. Of course, his day job is nurse, but he's on unpaid leave since Nan got bad enough to need help. They had a big argument about it, but he finally won with, 'My turn, Nan.' She understands about repaying debts."

Casting her mind back, trying to recall everyone who actually lives at the house, Ana asks, "Wait…even the butler, Stewart, works for no pay?"

Pru smiles and explains, "Yep. Actually, his name's _Allen_ Stewart, but he'd be thrilled that you didn't know that. He's fucking old school." With a little laugh, she continues, "And just fucking old. Sometimes I think he came with the house. Even Nan says she can't remember a time when he wasn't serving the family, in some capacity. She says he refused to leave when the estate could no longer support a full staff; decades ago…I'm not sure he knows anything else. I have a theory that, when she dies, he'll just be reabsorbed by the walls."

Still reeling from all this information, her perception of the reality at Elspeth Hall turned upside down, Ana asks, "So…when Nan _does_ die, what will happen to the estate?"

"No fucking idea, babe. Other relatives—the best of 'em anyway—also pitch in a little, for Nan's sake. But I doubt they'll want to keep throwing money into the pit once she's gone. Even volunteering our time, we're barely keeping up with basic maintenance. Nan doesn't like to discuss it, but I'm guessing she's left it to all of us, which means everyone will get a small chunk when we sell it to settle outstanding accounts." Suddenly grinning, she asks, "Unless you know some rich Americans with too much cash?" When Ana is silent, lost in thought, Pru sobers and adds, "I was joking, babe. These old places really are money pits. You'd be wasting your money."

Becoming more determined with every second, Ana asks, "Wasting my money by keeping the estate in the family and ensuring a safe haven for refugees from prejudice and circumstance?"

Apparently able to maintain a serious air for several seconds, Pru attempts, "There's no way Christian would go for this. He can't have become rich by throwing his money away on lost causes."

Her heart warm with pride for her gifted, benevolent husband, Ana smiles and reveals, "No, he took up that practice _after_ he became rich." Then clapping her hands once, she says, "But never mind about that. He's giving us this time together because we have far more important things to discuss. Are you still a virgin?"

Immediately blushing bright red, Pru's gaze darts to the doorway as she says, "Fuck; keep your voice down, would you. And you know I fucking am. I spent most of last night in surgery."

Thrilled with the results of her teasing, Ana laughs and says, "Sorry; couldn't resist. So, he likes you?"

Suddenly shy, Pru says, "Yeah. Only Lea was able to eventually make him leave to get some sleep. One of the nurses said that security tried to stop him from following me into the ward when I first got here, because he's not family." Laughing a little, she continues, "Apparently, he looked the guy up and down, then calmly explained that he would stay by my side until a family member arrived, concluding with, 'And, if you intend to prevent me, I hope you've got a lot of pals.' The fascist fucker let him in. Fuck, I wish I'd seen it, but I'd blacked out again by that time."

Smiling at the thought of gentle giant Nigel making a security guard back down with only a look and a few words, even as she's glad that the guard had the wisdom to choose common sense over regulations, Ana then asks, "But, you're going to be okay?"

"Yeah, babe. The fucking thing really only grazed me. Can you believe I got hit by a mast, while sitting in a car? I think my scars will be even more impressive than yours. But the surgeon you paid for says that, once my hair grows back, no one will even know I've been in an accident, and…" Audibly swallowing, before able to continue, Pru then concludes, "And that it's a good thing I'm short."

Her heart beating a little faster as she again imagines what _could_ have happened, Ana says, "Yeah. Christian realized that, too. I hate that you're injured, but it's a good thing we swapped seats."

Breaking the suddenly solemn mood with a wide grin, Pru says, "Of course, none of this would have happened if you'd just let me sit in his lap."

* * *

Ana and Christian are on their way back from the hospital, of course embracing as best they can, when she asks, "Does Brit, or maybe Carrick, know anything about British property law?"

Christian is quiet for a few seconds, then says, "Pru told you."

Of course he knows. She should have guessed that. "You've known all along that Nan is struggling, financially?"

That guilty shrug and he says only, "Not until recently, and it's not exactly a secret; she just doesn't like to discuss that the family home will have to be sold when she dies. The only way to even pay the back taxes is to break it up and sell some of the land. I overheard some comments that made me wonder, so looked into it, because I figured you'd find out soon enough and would want answers."

Only now nervous, despite the fact that Christian has proven time and again that she means more to him than any amount of money, Ana tentatively asks, "How do you feel about bailing her out? I know Nan would trust us to do the right thing, if we bought it. But, with her brother long dead and so many heirs, there's bound to be someone who'd kick up a stink if we take over without proving that it's the best option all round."

He's again quiet for a while, then gently says, "Sweetheart, I've not seen her will, but you're her one, true heir."

"What?"

Smiling, Christian explains, "I finally worked out all the 'twice removed' and such. Ann Lambert had one sibling who survived until adulthood, Edward…Ned, who married and had only one child, Franklin; your father. All of those other fuckers are family, but only indirectly. You're the closest living relative Nan has. That's why she was so thrilled to get this opportunity to meet you. She's been trying to track you down for years, but it proved very difficult without resources."

Her brain threatening to explode with all that she's learned today, Ana asks, "So, have you talked to Nan about this?"

"No. But I think you should. This is a family matter, so I'm content to follow your lead in this. You know I'm behind you, whatever you decide."

Thrilled that he's being so supportive, and with a wicked grin, Ana murmurs, "I like it when you're behind me, in any sense of the word."

Flicking a glance to the front seat, where their current minder and the driver are studiously ignoring them, Christian smiles and quietly says, "With Pru laid up, we've probably finally got a few quiet days before we have to leave. And I was supposed to be grounded yesterday."

"Oh, crap! I forgot." At his questioning look, she quickly continues, "Nan always hosts a family dinner the weekend before Christmas; this Saturday. This year it'll also be our farewell dinner. I'm sorry, I meant to tell you the other night, but you sidetracked me by nearly freezing to death."

Frowning, Christian warily asks, "Won't we need to buy gifts? And I'm not wearing a fucking party hat."

Ana laughs at the image and says, "I'm sure hats aren't compulsory. And the adults apparently do a version of Kris Kringle, so Pru suggested that we buy each other a gift, which I've already done. I'm pleased you haven't been nosing around in my stuff."

Grinning, Christian says, "I love nosing your stuff, but I wouldn't intrude on your closet space unless it were absolutely necessary. So, what did I get you?"

Beaming at him, Ana says, "Actually, you were very generous; buying me two gifts. And you'll just have to wait and see."

His expression transforming to annoyed, like the flick of a switch, Christian insists, "Your gift to me can remain a surprise, but I need to know what I got you, or I'll look like an idiot."

Relenting, Ana laughs lightly as she says, "All right. You bought me a very nice hair brush, guaranteed to add luster to my hair, even if I stop using shampoo. And pajamas."

With a crestfallen expression, making her love him even more, Christian pouts, "That's it; hair brush and pajamas. It doesn't sound like me."

Confident that he won't be disappointed when he sees the actual gifts, Ana grins and says, "Trust me."

Christian's eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he says, "Well, this sounds very promising."

Having finally caught up on her sleep, after spending most of last night at the hospital, Nan is free for a chat. First discussing Pru's current condition for a while, and checking that they're okay with Jerry being present, she asks, "So, you want to know about your inheritance?"

Stunned to be so abruptly brought to the point of this conversation, Ana nervously looks to Christian, who merely nods in encouragement, so she says, "Uh, yeah. We gather that it's not paying for itself, and hasn't done so for many years?"

Her impassive expression giving nothing away, Nan explains, "Not since before you were born, unfortunately."

Feeling suddenly out of her depth, and terrified of wounding the old woman's pride, Ana tentatively suggests, "I want to save it."

Nan stares at her for a while, then monotones, "Save it? You mean turn it into apartments for rent, or some such thing? That is your right, of course."

"No, no. I mean, restore the estate to its former glory, or something close to it. Everyone could, of course, still live here and, if you're willing, I'd love to actually start paying those who do the most work around here. I didn't even know there was an issue with money, so they're obviously doing a good job. I'd really like to keep our room free, if that's okay? That way we'll always have a comfortable place to stay when we visit. Our kids are going to love…"

Jerry guesses and moves to Nan's side just as she starts weeping. Horrified, Ana again looks to Christian, who encourages her forward with an inclination of his head. So Ana walks over and squats by Nan's wheelchair to ask, "Happy tears?"

Nan can only manage a nod, so Jerry explains, "She's been so worried. I told her to just ask you, because you seem like good people." Then softening the impact of his words with a kiss on the top of her head, he continues, "But Nan is absolutely terrible at asking for help. Thank you, both of you."

Nan recovers enough to splutter, "Yes, thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

Smiling, Ana asks, "So you're okay with Americans owning the family home?"

Producing a delicate white handkerchief, as if by magic, Nan dries her eyes and clutches Ana's arm to promise, "I'm okay with _you_ owning it. You've such a good heart. I know you'll do the right thing. Thank you." As if remembering that he's in the room, she asks Christian, "And how do you feel about this?"

Christian shrugs and says, "Not quite what I meant when I suggested that we buy a vacation home here, but I guess it'll have to do." When Nan doesn't laugh, he more seriously continues, "If it were for any purpose other than Ana's happiness, I would say that it's a total waste of money. I don't give a damn about the past. I give a damn about my wife. If she wants this place restored, then that is what shall happen. With a moderate injection of funds, we could even turn it into an exclusive horse stud, dedicated to preserving ancient breeds like the Suffolk Punch."

It's Ana's turn to weep happy tears, though she ignores them to ask her husband, "What do you know about horses?"

Christian shrugs again and says, "Not much, but I knew you'd want to keep this old place, so I've been pondering how to make it turn a profit without disrupting things too much."

It feels weird, saying the words when others can hear, but Ana simply cannot stop her heart from uttering aloud, "I love you, Christian Grey."

Christian smirks—that lopsided grin that means he's both pleased and amused by her actions—and says, "I love you too, baby, but we're here for a reason."

"Oh, right." Turning her attention back to Nan, wiping her few tears away, she says, "One of our lawyers will contact you, probably tomorrow, if that suits?" At Nan's stunned nod, Ana continues, "They'll ask a bunch of questions about your plans or wishes for the estate, so we can draw up a contract."

Shaking her head, Nan says, "I don't need a contract. The estate is yours when I die, Ana, then you can do whatever you want with it. I trust you."

Again fighting the urge to weep, Ana says, "I know, Nan, and I thank you for that. But you're going to sign over everything to me _now_, and in a way that no one can dispute. That way, by the time you…" Taking a deep, trembling breath to summon more courage, Ana continues, "By the time grease and oil changes are no longer enough, you'll see the Hall again looking beautiful, and know that the people who live here are earning a decent living keeping it that way."

This time the frail, old woman whimpers before again weeping. Jerry puts a hand to her wrist, obviously concerned about the physical toll of this conversation, but she waves him away, saying, "I'm fine…better than fine. I feel like celebrating. Time to break out the rest of Ana's inheritance, I think."

"Nan, it's barely noon." Guessing that they're talking about alcohol, Ana has to fight the urge to laugh at Jerry's tone; sounding for all the world like Nan's parent, not nurse. When she only stares at him, he says, "Fine. I put it in the safe, so those festive freeloaders wouldn't find it. I'll be right back."

"You'll both join me; at least a drop? I know you're abstaining at the moment, but this twenty-five year old single malt was bottled in nineteen sixty-nine."

Wondering if there's a connection, Ana muses, "My dad was born in nineteen sixty-nine."

"Yes. Ned bought it the year he left for America with his young bride and a baby on the way. He gave it to me with the promise to one day return and share it with me." Taking a deep breath, Nan continues, "Of course, he was killed in combat when your father was still a child. I have a feeling they'd both approve if we open it now."

Cursing herself for glancing at Christian for the answer, Ana asks, "In that case, maybe I could have a little?"

Thankfully, he doesn't make a fuss, merely smiles and says, "I don't think a taste will do any harm." To Nan he adds, "And I'd love to, thank you, though I prefer bourbon."

Jerry returns, with a small wooden box under one arm and a few glasses stacked in the other, as Nan smiles and says, "Then perhaps you'd better reconsider, Christian. Because, once you've tried good scotch, you'll never be satisfied with bourbon again."

Christian is smiling at his wife as he says, "I doubt that, Nan, but I've been surprised before." On seeing the whiskey label, he reaches out a hand to stop Jerry and says, "Whoa, do you know what you have there?"

Clearly, Jerry doesn't, because he looks to Nan, who smiles and says, "Yes. Nowadays, it would probably sell for twenty thousand of your dollars, but money isn't everything."

Christian again smiles at Ana and says, "True enough. Baby, who said, 'Wealth is not his that has it, but his that enjoys it.'?"

Smiling with pleasure that he trusts her to know the answer, Ana says, "Benjamin Franklin. I like that one."

"Me, too. Though I didn't really understand it before I met you." Gesturing for Jerry to continue, Christian adds, "Okay, let's find out what we've got."

Everyone is mute while Jerry breaks the seal and uncorks the bottle; likewise throughout the onomatopoeic perfection of the chink of glass on fine crystal as he splashes varying sized serves for everyone, adding a dash of water from a jug on the table as silently requested. Then a few more moments of hushed reverence as they all savor the aroma of the quality liquor. Finally, Nan sighs and mutters, "An agreeable interlude." More loudly, she prompts, "Christian, you're our guest."

At Ana's confusion, he explains, "Toast. You're family." Then holding up his glass a little, he suggests, "What about one from Ireland?" At Nan's nod, he continues, "May your home always be too small to hold all your friends."

Smiling at the appropriateness of it, Ana sips from her small portion of scotch. At first, the assault of flavors is too much for her, but the longer it sits in her mouth, the more layers she detects; finally swallowing and exclaiming, "Fruity." When Christian splutters, chokes and is obviously trying not to laugh, she blushes and asks, "Did I get it wrong?"

Recovering, Christian rests an apologetic hand on her shoulder and says, "No, baby; you're exactly right. There are a myriad of spicy fruit flavors. But I seriously doubt anyone has used 'fruity' as their only assessment of vintage single malt scotch."

Still slightly pink, Ana amends, "Well, it was kind of nutty and chocolatey, too. But the fruit was a surprise. I like it."

Nan smiles with pride at Ana as she comments, "Looks like we have another Lambert who appreciates great scotch."

"Grey."

Ana smiles a little at Christian's correction, then looks at Nan, and together the women insist, "Lambert."

* * *

Surprised, on opening his door to see Nigel, Christian says, "Oh. I suggested Lea take your place this afternoon, because I thought you'd be at the hospital by now."

"I just came from there, sir. I know I let you down yesterday, but I'd like to serve out the last few days of my contract, if that's okay with you?"

"How the fuck did you…" Glancing back at a napping Ana, he steps into the corridor, carefully shutting the door, and more quietly says, "How the fuck did you let me down? Do you mean accompanying Pru to the hospital? I understand about that, and we had secure transport."

A muscle twitching in his jaw for a second, Nigel replies, "I didn't evade the danger. I should've seen it coming."

"For fuck's sake, man, go easy on yourself. It was a freak accident. The fucker who didn't secure his dinghy will face charges; I'm making fucking sure of that. But the accident wasn't your fault. And something else; I was looking at Ana when it happened, so I saw..." Having trouble continuing for a moment, when he remembers how close it had been, Christian swallows and says, "That fucking mast was coming straight at her. You not only very nearly dodged it, but brought the car to a safe stop, too. You saved all of us."

Apparently intent on punishing himself, Nigel protests, "Not Ms. Kent; luck saved her."

Christian laughs and asks, "_Ms. Kent_? You're seriously going to play it like that? And you must know what they say about luck?"

Nigel finally manages a smile and reveals, "My dad maintains that it's a dividend of sweat."

Leading them both towards the nearest exit, Christian nods and says, "A quote from Ray Kroc, the guy who turned a little hamburger business into McDonald's."

"I guess he'd know about sweating. The reporters have finally given up, sir. We can run along the lane, if you'd like? Shouldn't be too crowded this time of day."

"Okay, thanks. It'll be easier than slogging through mud and snow around the property."

As promised, no cameramen haunt the front gate; his brush with death apparently old news. Thomas and Lucy had given the fuckers a sound bite, thankfully referring to Christian only as "a family friend". Of course, he'd done what he could to preserve Pru's privacy at the hospital, too; partly to ensure that he and Ana can remain relatively anonymous for the rest of their vacation. As usual, Nigel doesn't say a word once they start running; merely falling into step behind him. Perfect.

His body is protected from the biting wind and driving rain by his black Arc'teryx Visio FL jacket and running tights—Ana disapproves of them, claiming (rightly so) that he wouldn't like her to jog in public wearing skintight pants, but they're the best thing for the distances he runs; LED bands ensuring he's visible even in weather like this. His identity concealed by a cap and hood, classical music conveyed to his ears via the iPod strapped to one bicep, Christian's awareness extends only a few yards before him. He puts one foot in front of the other at a steady, mile-consuming pace that soon overrides the chill in his bones; lost in pleasant thoughts about Ana. Their scene this afternoon had been perhaps the best sex since arriving in England—and they'd had some fucking good fucking.

He'd put his own needs on hold the entire day; skipping his early morning run to support her through a painful session with Flynn, an even more excruciating conversation with her mom, an emotional visit to the hospital (Ana had been in tears on the way, suffering survivor's guilt) and stood by, with pride, while she'd come up with a plan that will ensure Nan dies a very happy woman, confident that her family's legacy is safe in Ana's hands.

The strange thing about today was that, even though taking a back seat to his wife would appear to go against his dominant nature, none of it had seemed like an effort. He honestly, genuinely enjoys being the person Ana can rely on. And nothing thrilled him like it did to see how confident she's becoming…well, almost nothing. God, what she could do to him! He didn't even know how much he'd needed to dominate her in the bedroom until she'd slipped into the role of scared virgin—true, she had recent experience to draw on when playing an ingénue, but she'd never been scared of having sex with him. He'd only known she was acting because she'd added "Sir" to her pleas.

Fuck, and then she'd deliberately taken her bottom lip in her teeth and gazed up at him through her long, beautiful lashes, so he was already rock hard when he'd bound and blindfolded her. On intuition, and mindful of her physical condition, he'd then grabbed her around the throat, just tight enough to awaken her instinctive fear, and it had been Dominant Christian who'd put his lips by her ear to whisper all the filthy stuff he intended to do to her. She'd literally quivered with need and a soft, mewling sound escaped her before she again "begged" him to go easy on her. Of course, he hadn't—neither of them wanted really wanted him to be gentle by that point. He'd fucked her like a pile driver and gloriously exploded inside her, his orgasm going on for ages.

It's how he knows that what he has with Ana is the real thing. Not that he ever really doubted it. If anything, Ana does; occasionally still worried that he'll miss all those incredibly talented and extremely obliging women. But, even though subduing them and testing their limits of pain and pleasure—both emotional and physical—had been enough to drive back his demons for another week, his physical release (though often exquisite) was always short-lived. Because he didn't…couldn't love any of them. It's just Ana's low self-esteem that causes these doubts. At least Carla's admission has finally provided the missing link between an apparently cherished child and the shy, retiring adult who'd fallen at his feet; her true personality barely visible after a lifetime of trying to please her emotionally absent mother, but he'd seen her…seen the _real_ Ana.

_Fuck!_ He's so fucking mad at his mother-in-law, to put her own needs ahead of her family. Yet hadn't he done the same thing for so many years, because he'd been afraid to ask for help? Even after he'd been caught climbing into the wrong room when one of his nightly vodka "therapy" sessions had gotten a little out of hand, Christian hadn't really felt any remorse. His parents had suspected that this wasn't the only time, so he'd compromised with a lie that could be believed; that he only drank when the nightmares were really bad.

At the time he'd thought; what the fuck did it matter if he had a few drinks every night? It helped him sleep and it hurt no one…sure, his health might suffer, eventually. But he'd only intended it to get him through high school; he could stop when it was no longer needed. Flynn, the fucker, had shown Christian how much his alcoholism was hurting Grace with one question to her, "How do you feel about the fact that your son would rather get drunk than ask you for help?"

Grace had wept, then keened, then howled and finally ended up on her knees in Carrick's embrace as she sobbed, "That I've failed him…I've failed."

Christian—not used to such emotion from anyone, least of all from this tower of strength who had rescued him from hell on earth—was staring at his adoptive parents in horror when Grace, still on her knees, had turned to him and apologized (fucking apologized!) for letting _him_ down. He'd almost thrown up, still incapable of recognizing the feeling that was flooding through him, threatening to overwhelm him. If he weren't effectively trapped by a weeping woman, his hands firmly clasped in hers, he'd have fled.

Flynn must have known how close he was to losing his new patient in that very first session, because he'd firmly ordered Grace and Carrick to leave the room, and to do so without saying another word. When they both resisted, he reminded them that they'd sought _him_, not the other way round. So they'd left, Grace only doing so silently at a further caution from Flynn. That wonderful, compassionate, intuitive and infuriating motherfucker had offered Christian a glass of water, and said, "It's guilt; the emotion that you're feeling. You feel remorse for inadvertently causing your mother pain."

Ignorant fucker that he was back then, he'd bit out, "She's not my fucking mother."

"Oh? Who is?"

"I don't have one."

"Everyone has a mother, Christian." When he hadn't replied, merely wondering when the fuck he could get out of there, Flynn had asked, "Can one feel guilt without being capable of empathy?" Who the fuck talks like that? And how the fuck had he known that the scrawny, fucked-up kid before him had never felt guilt in his life? Fear, sure…anger, certainly, and often something like shame, when he fucked up trying to appear normal, but not guilt.

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Because you're very smart, and your mother…your _adoptive_ mother tells me that you devour books like other kids consume candy. How about this; you answer one question today—not this one—and I let you go home early? Mind, you'll have to be honest, or it doesn't count."

Flynn was right about him being smart, and this was a good deal. "So fucking ask."

"Why have you not taken your own life?"

That had shocked him; not once, in the past ten years, had a shrink opened a dialogue about suicide. But even back then Christian was good at concealing his feelings. So he'd merely asked, "When would I have time to fucking commit suicide? If I'm not studying, playing sport or doing chores I'm having my head shrunk by the latest motherfucker with daddy issues who thinks he can help me."

Apparently unaffected by this thinly veiled insult, Flynn had shrugged and said, "Time enough for a secret drinking habit leaves time enough for suicide, Christian. And you didn't answer my question."

The denial was out of his mouth almost before he thought about it. At fourteen he was already a practiced liar. "I don't have a habit. It's just for when things are real bad."

With no reprove in his voice—if anything, only compassion—Flynn had gently explained, "You don't need to lie when we're alone, Christian. These sessions are recorded, so I can review them later and better understand how to help you. But no one will ever hear those recordings except me. And I have made it a condition of treating you that nothing you say here will be relayed to your parents…sorry, _adoptive_ parents."

"Stop fucking saying 'adoptive' like that. It's pissing me off."

Again that infuriating shrug of his shoulders and Flynn had said, "I'll use any term you care for, Christian. You're the one who insisted Grace is not your mother."

He'd wanted to fucking punch him then; actually pictured his fist smashing the smug fucker's nose. Again, none of this played out on his face when he said, "Fine. Call them whatever the fuck you want." When Flynn had said nothing else, Christian had sullenly asked, "What?"

"Your answer?"

Not really confident that it would be enough, he'd attempted, "Maybe I'm scared?"

"Of dying? Bullshit."

This time his body had betrayed him; his eyes widening in surprise. No shrink used language like that. Christian had assumed it was a rule. "Are you allowed to cuss like that?"

"Why not? You do. I won't make a habit of it. But, in this case, 'bullshit' is most apt. Your answer?"

"I…fuck, maybe I'm curious to see if life gets better?"

"That's another question, not an answer. And it's also bullshit; so much so that I can practically smell it. You don't give a fuck about _life_. And you certainly don't give a fuck about your own or you wouldn't be making such a mess of it. I'm guessing that the underage drinking and constant fighting is the tip of a risk-taking iceberg. You don't fear violent recrimination by now; not after a decade in a stable, loving home. So you have a different reason for keeping all these harmful activities a secret. Your answer?"

He'd stood, terrified of whatever answer was lurking in his subconscious, and exclaimed, "I'm not fucking playing this game anymore. I'm fucking out of here."

Flynn had relaxed further back into his chair and gestured to the door. "Okay, Christian. I'm disappointed to learn that you're not a man of your word. But that's my problem, not yours. You're free to go."

He'd stared at the door that led to the waiting room for a while, then asked, "They'll just find another shrink, won't they?"

"Yes, Christian."

He'd done his homework—that being the best way to adequately torture his therapists. Dr. John Flynn (insert impossibly long string of letters here) had immigrated to America at the request of no less than the President of the United States. He'd helped children recover from years of abuse, victims of rape find the courage to get on with their life, and soldiers overcome the horrors of war. "He won't be as good as you, will he?"

"Probably not."

With no better option, it suddenly became easy to tell the truth, and he'd finally answered, "Because it would destroy her."

Only then was Christian impressed with Flynn; when the good doctor didn't gloat, merely quietly asking, "Destroy whom?"

"My mom; Grace."

"Thank you, Christian. You can go. I'll see you on Wednesday. Would you send your parents in for a moment, please?" Holding up a hand when Christian had whirled on him, he'd quickly explained, "Just to let them know we'll be continuing. _I'm_ a man of my word, too."

He'd wondered at the time, what Flynn had said to his parents that meant they were both smiling when they'd returned to the waiting room, only a minute or two later. It was years before he found the courage to ask Grace. She'd smiled and said, "He told me that you'd agreed to see him on a regular basis, and that you love me very much."

Of course, thinking about the "L" word brings him very neatly back to Ana…his Anastasia. Grace had taught…no, _reminded _Christian how to love. But not even a mother's unconditional love could make him accept it in return. Only Ana had been able to do that. It's even beginning to hurt less when she looks at him as if he's the answer to all her prayers.

_Fuck this! I could be snuggled up with my wife instead of freezing my nuts off out here. _Jogging on the spot, to keep his heart-rate up while he waits for the approaching car to pass, so he can cross the road, Christian turns to Nigel, saying, "Enough for today. Let's head back."

So he doesn't see the driver's attention consumed by two hot guys in running suits. Or that her ogling is naturally dragging her steering towards the objects of her attention. What he does see is Nigel's eyes widen with fear, and he's turning to see why when over two hundred pounds of bodyguard hits him in the solar plexus, punching the air from his lungs as they both sail through the air, landing in the full and partly frozen drainage ditch beside the road. "Sir! Sir, are you okay?"

_Fuck, it's cold! _"Other than a giant is fondling me? I'm fine. Get the fuck off me."

Immediately ceasing his cursory inspection of Christian's limbs and head for injuries, Nigel helps his boss stand, glancing down the road where the Fiat is skidding to a stop, and quips, "Wanna make a run for it?"

Christian barks a harsh laugh and says, "Tempting. But we'll fucking freeze to death now. She can give us a ride back, if you think it's safe enough?"

Nigel shrugs, wipes water from his face and says, "Should be okay. I could give Lea a call, but we'd be icicles by the time she got here." The driver, a young woman, fishes a blanket or two from her car and approaches them, hysterically apologizing the whole time. Deadpan, Nigel comments, "Brace yourself."

Christian laughs again and says, "Yeah. She's not going to shut up the whole way. Oh, not a word about this to Mrs. Grey, okay?"

Nigel stares at Christian for a moment, but then agrees, "Okay. You don't seem very upset about this?"

Christian shrugs and says, "It's happened before, but I'm usually facing them, so I just step aside. Thanks, for doing your job."

With a genuine smile, for the first time in a couple of days, Nigel says, "That's what I'm here for."

Finally free from the woman who'd so nearly hit him—she really had apologized the entire way to Elspeth Hall—Christian is relieved to see that Ana is still asleep. Quickly divesting himself of his now filthy and saturated clothes, he towel dries before climbing in and spooning her. She stirs a little, murmuring, "Mmm…husband." A heartbeat later, she tries to squirm away from him, protesting, "Fuck, you're freezing! Have you been swimming again?"

Desperate for comfort and warmth, Christian easily prevents her escape and chuckles at her attempts to get away before saying, "No. But it's bucketing down out there. And I missed you."

It's enough. Ana relaxes and snuggles back against him, rubbing warmth into his enfolding arms as she reveals, "I was dreaming about you."

Fuck, even that is enough that his near frozen cock stirs to life, wondering if he'll get lucky. "Good dream?"

Squirming against him, silently encouraging his erection, Ana promises, "Mmm, hmm. But not as good as this."

* * *

Where credit's due: "The light music of whiskey falling into a glass - an agreeable interlude." - James Joyce


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-seven

Amazingly, Friday passes without incident. Ana and Christian again visit Pru, spend some time with Carla and various members of the Lambert clan, and yet have time for not quite enough (because it's never enough) sex. Ana smiles, on exiting the en suite that night, to see that her husband is already asleep. Despite the fact that he now seldom has nightmares, his sleep patterns remain erratic enough that a sleeping Christian is still a rare sight for her. When she enters the bed and moves into his arms, he stirs a little, so she smiles and says, "Hey, sleepy head."

Barely awake, Christian murmurs, "Sorry, babe; too pooped to pop…unless you really want to fuck?"

Resisting the urge to laugh at the idea of Christian Grey being too tired for sex, even though he's clearly still ready to oblige, Ana turns over, so they can comfortably spoon, and says, "That's fine, darling. I could do with a break. At the rate we're going, I'll need a vagina transplant before I'm thirty."

Yawning, Christian wraps himself around her, one hand resting on her belly, and says, "Well, we can't have that. I've no interest in anyone else's vagina."

"Now, how is that sexy?"

His hand gliding up to cover one breast, idly rolling the nipple between two fingers, Christian kisses her neck and says, "I guess fidelity is sexy; certainly I find it so."

Her body coming to life under his attentions, Ana says, "Thought you were too tired?"

Taking a moment to adjust his position, so that his burgeoning erection can rest between her butt cheeks, Christian says, "I was."

* * *

Ana wakes up in an oven. Realizing that the heat is coming from Christian, she struggles out of his embrace. He stirs and mutters something incoherent. Reaching a hand towards him, she can actually feel heat emanating from his body. Contact with his skin confirms that he's feverish and slick with sweat. He thrashes a little and rants something else, apparently in the throes of a febrile nightmare.

Sitting up and turning on the lamp, Ana pushes the covers from his torso to see a bright red rash at the base of his neck. He stirs and moans, "Baby? Baby, I feel like shit."

Time to test whether Bree's promise to be available twenty-four hours a day is real. Ana texts her even as she says, "I know, baby. You're sick. I think you have measles or chicken pox."

Kicking the covers from the rest of his body, Christian reaches for her, saying, "No. Mom had me vaccinated when I started fourth grade."

Surprised that Grace, of all people, would wait that long before protecting her son from childhood diseases, Ana asks, "Fourth grade? Not when you were younger?"

His head in her lap, Christian murmurs, "Home schooled. Had to catch up…academically and socially. Couldn't attend school until I was able to cope with a crowd. Mom covered me for every disease she could. Fuck, baby, everything aches."

Her heart aching for him—he's not been sick since she's known him—Ana says, "Baby, Bree will be here any second. You okay with her seeing you naked?"

A groan and Christian lurches towards the end of the bed, grabbing his pajama pants as he says, "I guess not." Swallowing, he adds, "Fuck, my mouth feels like the Sahara."

"I'll get you a drink. Stay in bed; you're all wobbly." Quickly donning her robe, Ana fetches a glass of water and is returning when there's a knock on the door. She hands Christian the drink, then opens the door to a bleary-eyed Bree and says, "Sorry to wake you. But, as you can see, Christian is not well. Uh, his mom is a pediatrician, and he's been vaccinated against just about everything." Checking that Christian is momentarily distracted, she then whispers, "I've never seen him sick. I'm really worried."

Bree nods her understanding of all this information and says, "From here it looks like fifth disease…slapped cheek. Not serious, but there's no vaccination for it. Did you have it as a child?"

"I think so. I can check with Mom?"

"Do that; right now. I'll draw some blood from both of you, and have it tested today. If it is fifth, and you don't have the relevant antibodies in your system, there's a slight chance your baby might be at risk, so we'd have to book you in for monitoring. But, as you don't have any symptoms, you're almost certainly immune to it, which means your baby is protected." Approaching, Christian, she then says, "You spent Tuesday afternoon with the children, did you not, sir?"

"Yeah. What, one of the little fuckers infected me?"

"Ansel only showed symptoms yesterday. He would have been contagious on Tuesday." Fishing in her bag for a few things Bree continues, "I'll do a basic exam, check out that rash and take some blood from whichever arm has the most obliging vein. As the son of a doctor, I'm sure you know the drill."

After completing the exam, and obtaining a blood sample from Christian, Bree says, "Well, Mr. Grey, you do appear to have slapped cheek syndrome. It's a virus. The rash is unusual in an adult, so it shouldn't get any worse and will fade soon enough, as will the flu-like symptoms. But I'm afraid that the joint pain may persist for a few weeks, with a slim chance that you'll have ongoing problems, so mention this to your physician back home. Take ibuprofen or naproxen sodium for the pain and fever. Do you have some?" At Christian's nod, she concludes, "Other than that, not much to be done, I'm afraid. If the blood tests prove a liar out of me, you'll have to postpone your flight and see a doctor here."

Somewhat relieved, that it's not more serious, Ana bares her arm so Bree can obtain her second sample, and asks, "So, he's not contagious right now?"

Preparing equipment as she speaks, Bree says, "No. He'll need rest and lots of fluids while his temperature remains high. Other than that, the biggest issue will be the joint pain."

"Christian has a high tolerance for pain."

Glancing at her new patient, already asleep, Bree comments, "Apparently." The procedure doesn't take long. Bree stands, bag in hand, and says, "I'll get these samples to the hospital; should have the results in a couple of hours."

"So soon, and at this hour? Do you need a credit card or anything?"

Smiling, Bree says, "No, thank you. I used to run the place, so they'll rush this through for me."

After seeing Bree to the door, Ana fetches a couple of Advil and another glass of water. Sitting beside Christian she manages to wake him and says, "Baby? Can you swallow a couple of pills? Then you can go straight back to sleep."

Groaning, Christian sits up enough to do as he's told and then puts his head on Ana's lap as he moans, "This is all Lucy's fault. I should have let her drown."

Trying not to laugh at his petulant misery, Ana runs her fingers through his sweat-soaked hair and asks, "How is it Lucy's fault?"

"She dragged me round all her friends. One of those little fuckers did this to me."

"Not on purpose, darling."

"I'm not so sure." He's quiet for a while, then sighs and murmurs, "That's nice, thank you." A minute later, he's again asleep.

Ana stays there a while longer, soothing his dreams with her caress, until she's sure he's sleeping soundly. Then she eases out from underneath him and is heading for the bathroom when there's a soft knock at the door. It's Carla, and she greets Ana with, "Slapped cheek?"

Stepping out into the corridor, so as not to disturb Christian, Ana says, "Yeah. Have I had it? I remember being sick when I was about four."

"Yes, sweetheart. Christian didn't have it as a child?"

"No. He, uh, wasn't ready for school when Grace and Carrick adopted him. So he was homeschooled for a few years."

"But…he grew up with a brother and sister. Were they homeschooled, too?"

Still nervous about revealing anything of Christian's past, even to Carla, Ana thinks about it for a moment and says, "His fear of being touched was much worse when he was a child. And…and I'm guessing he spent a lot of time alone."

Carla stares at the door, as if she can see her son-in-law, and asks, "Just how bad was his life before he was adopted?"

"Bad, Mom…the worst. But that's his to reveal when he's ready."

"I understand. He said that he might get brave enough, one day. But it's really not necessary. Whatever happened to him as a child, it's clearly forged a good man." Then giving Ana a hug, she asks, "Anything I can do?"

"Not right now, thanks. I'm going to get some more sleep. But I might need your help later? I've never seen him sick, but I have a feeling that Christian isn't going to cope very well with this."

Patting Ana's arm, Carla smiles and says, "No men do, sweetheart; least of all the good ones."

* * *

Carla next knocks on the door in time to watch a still sleeping Christian while Ana has breakfast. When she eventually returns, carrying toast and juice on a tray, he's sitting up in bed—freshly showered, now wearing a t-shirt over pajama pants, Blackberry in hand—and accuses, "You left."

Looking around, she says, "Yes, but I left you with Mom. Where is she?"

Putting the phone aside, Christian waves a dismissive hand and says, "Oh, I sent her on some errand. I don't need a fucking babysitter."

His belligerent tone confirming Carla's theory that good men make bad patients, Ana curbs her smile, placing the tray on his lap as she says, "Of course not. I just didn't want you to wake alone."

"I'm not fucking hungry."

Though he's thankfully no longer fanatical about _her_ meals—possibly only because she's always hungry since Blip grew big enough to need extra—Christian remains compulsive about food. Ana moves, slowly, to pick up the tray as she says, "Okay. I'll just throw it out."

Of course, he stops her movements, muttering "Fucking kids," before reluctantly starting on the meager meal.

Really struggling not to smile now—he's just so cute when he pouts—Ana says, "You're going to be like this until your symptoms ease, aren't you?"

"Like what? I'm fucking sick."

"It's just slapped cheek. I had it when I was four. And like a bear with a sore head."

Showing one hand, he pouts, "Well fuck, baby, it's not like for a kid; every joint aches, from my knuckles to my toes."

Taking his hand in hers, Ana gently kisses each digit. Finally able to smile, Christian wipes the crumbs from his other hand and offers that for "treatment", too. She's worked her way up to his wrist when there's a knock at the door. She heads to answer it with the whispered caution "Be nice," which is countered with a death glare.

Expecting Carla, Ana is surprised to see someone much smaller. "Hey, Lucy. Come to see Christian?"

"Daddy said he's sick, like Ansel?"

"Yeah. I'm afraid he's not well enough for visitors right now."

"Oh, okay. I'll come back later."

Glancing back at Christian, to see that he's vigorously shaking his head in opposition of the idea, Ana returns her attention to Lucy. "That'd be nice, thank you. I'll let him know you called on him."

Apparently undeterred by the failure of her mission, Lucy smiles brightly and skips off. Mentally preparing for the consequences, Ana shuts the door and turns. As expected, Christian's glare has returned, tenfold, and he growls, "Why the fuck would you _do_ that?"

Vigilant for signs of real anger, Ana gently explains, "You need distracting, and nothing distracts you like me messing with you."

His pique remains for only a moment longer, then he grins and says, "Well that's true." Putting the now empty tray to one side, he commands, "Get in here and mess with me." Another knock on the door is answered by, "Fuck!"

As if the expletive is permission, Carla enters, carrying an ice bucket. She nods to Ana, even as she comments, "I take it his mood has not improved? He woke up speaking like that."

Ana glances at Christian, who is managing to simultaneously glare at both of them. "Uh, not yet. I think maybe just some rest and quiet would be best."

Seemingly oblivious of the sexual tension in the room, Carla puts the ice bucket by Christian's side of the bed, using the tongs to drop a couple of cubes in his water glass, even as she nods and tells him, "I've asked everyone not to bother you. Just take it easy, okay?"

Christian grins and teases, "Yes, Mom."

Carla pats his hand and says, "I wouldn't start that unless you're willing to continue it, son."

Christian's smile widens and he says, "Thanks for the ice, Mom."

Carla shakes her head and says to Ana, "He's a devil, isn't he?"

Recognizing that whatever is going on is a good thing, she smiles and jokes, "Pure evil."

Leaning over and kissing Christian's forehead, commenting "You're still very warm," Carla then hugs Ana and says, "Well, I'll be around if you kids need anything else."

And sees her mom to the door, then locks it. She turns to see that Christian has noticed her precaution; a broad grin on his face, and he asks, "You going to mess with me, now?"

She knows what he needs; she's always known. "Yes, Sir."

* * *

Sex proves the best medicine for Christian, even improving his mood. He's again asleep when Bree checks in with the good/bad news that _is_ fifth disease, and that Ana's body contains the antibodies that have protected her baby from the virus.

Much as she hates to see Christian suffering, Ana is grateful for another quiet day. With Advil enough to keep his fever and pain under control, he's actually a joy to be with. And she would endure all the worry again to relive that moment when she'd returned, with toast and soup for his lunch, to find Christian again in bed with Lucy on top of the covers beside him, reading _A Sick Day for Amos McGee. _Christian had such an imploring look on his face, that she'd taken pity on him; thanking Lucy and suggesting that it might be time for her "patient" to have a nap. The junior caregiver had fairly professionally checked his pulse before agreeing; with the added caution that he stay in bed until he's well.

By afternoon, Christian has recovered enough that they're packing, readying for their late-night flight home, when the inevitable happens. As if he's somehow been preparing for it, Christian is immediately by Ana's side, embracing her and offering soothing words as the tears run down her face. Sobbing against his chest, she splutters, "Fucking hormones!"

"It's not just hormones, babe. I'm sad to be leaving, too. But we're going home to new house and, in a few months, a brand new family."

That familiar too-much-love pain in her chest eclipses everything else, and she lifts her head to gaze up at him and ask, "How do you do that?"

Smiling, in answer to the adoration shining from her face, Christian asks, "Do what, baby?"

"Make it all better."

He shrugs and says, "No idea, but I'm glad it helped." Glancing over their luggage, he suggests, "How about we get Lea to finish this?"

"She won't mind?"

"Baby, I'm paying her enough that she'd carry our bags to Seattle if I asked her. Come on; Lea can take care of this, while you and I can have a last tour of the grounds before dinner."

He's done it again; her heart lifting at the thought of one last walk with him. "Husband, I think perhaps you're a genius."

One of the extra security officers that now surround the estate falls into step at a discreet distance behind them as they exit the building. With this being Christian's first public appearance since this morning, the couple's progress is very slow, because everyone—both young and old—stops them to check on his health ("Feeling much better now, thank you.") and ask if he's well enough to attend the farewell dinner ("Oh, yes; wouldn't miss it.") When they've finally run the gauntlet, and are ostensibly alone, Christian asks, "I've little experience of being ill. Is it always like this?"

Marveling at the fact that he truly cannot understand it, Ana says, "They love you, darling."

Clearly disbelieving, he says, "I don't think so. They're just being nice."

"_All_ of them?"

They walk in silence for a while, then Christian says, "I _did_ save Lucy. And word has probably spread by now that we're saving this place."

Glad that she gave him the time to work it out by himself, Ana says, "Exactly. You're practically a hero in their eyes. Also; sex on a stick…even when you're ill."

"Well, that's certainly true. If it weren't so cold out here, I'd prove it."

"Oh, no you don't. You proved it enough this morning that it'll probably hurt to sit down this evening."

Christian grimaces apologetically at that, though he doesn't look very ashamed, then more seriously says, "Thank you, for looking after me and distracting me so effectively. I felt like death warmed up this morning. You've probably guessed that I've not been sick very often in my life. I hope I wasn't too cranky this morning?"

"Other than cussing out my mom?"

He grimaces and asks, "Do I need to apologize to her?"

"No, darling. She was married to Ray, remember? I'm pretty sure she's heard worse."

"Good point."

Christian is the one who suggests they turn back. Truly enjoying this last look at the winter wonderland that will soon belong to them, Ana is about to protest that she's not too tired when she notices the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead and guesses that he's more ill than he seems. "God, Christian, I'm sorry. Are you okay to walk back?"

With a harsh laugh he asks, "What are you going to do; fucking carry me?" Then taking a deep breath, he continues, "Sorry. I'm not fucking used to feeling weak. Flynn says that it's fear, because I equate physical weakness with vulnerability, even when I know that I'm safe."

Ana nods and says, "Being weak makes you feel four years old again."

Drawing Ana into an embrace, Christian is much more relaxed when he asks, "How is it that you just know this stuff about me?"

Smiling, Ana teases, "I know you like to think that you're some sort of dark, mysterious individual, Mr. Grey, but you're really not that complicated."

This time his laugh is genuine and he accusea, "Yes, you're definitely Flynn."

"He says that?"

Steering them towards the house, Christian explains, "He maintains that all my symptoms—what I've previously thought of as my darkness—make perfect sense in the context of what I've endured."

"Well, that's what I mean; what you call—" Suddenly stopping, Ana looks at Christian to ask, "Wait…'previously'?"

Christian smiles and says, "Yes."

Even through a veil of ecstatic tears, he's beautiful. "Because I'm still here?"

Cradling her face and gently wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, Christian tenderly kisses her and affirms, "Not only still here. But, by some miracle, you still love me."

* * *

The formal dining room has been transformed, as if by magic, into a festive wonderland; every vertical surface is draped with tinsel garlands and fairy lights, a tree tall enough to almost reach the high ceiling is festooned with all manner of decorations and filling with air with that evocative pine scent, unseen speakers are playing carols at a volume that doesn't preclude conversation, a veritable mountain of beckoning gifts surround the base of the tree, and the elaborate table setting is a stand-alone celebration of the season. The smaller children's table is similarly decorated, but with what looks like an edible centerpiece; the rules against candy as an entrée apparently ignored for this one meal.

The children, having rushed through the doors as they open, approach the brightly wrapped gifts, to a chorus of parents reminding them that it's dinner first. Ana giggles and, at Christian's questioning look, says, "I bet they have to say that every, single time."

Of course, he's holding her hand. He affectionately squeezes it for a moment and says, "And I bet we'll have to remind our kids, too."

Shaking her head to banish the happy tears, Ana protests, "Not nice, Grey."

His smile confirming that he knows the words are actually praise, Christian jokes, "Sorry, baby."

Pru is here, her bandaged scalp concealed under a cloth bandana; her every move supervised by an off-duty and hyper vigilant Nigel. Ana sees that even Lea is joining the large dinner party, and soon spots Bree, too. She's silently acknowledging the women's presence when Christian murmurs, "Thought you might like to have one meal with our minions before we have to go."

It's a talent that still eludes Ana—thinking of twenty-four hour staff as mere employees—so she kisses Christian's cheek in gratitude.

Dinner is exquisite; a cornucopia of local seasonal produce. Ana is wondering how all this is possible on family donations when she recognizes a champagne bottle—Cristal; a wine she's only become familiar with since meeting Christian. So she turns to him and whispers, "Funded by GEH?"

With a quiet smile he replies, "Merely a contributor, my darling. Nan wouldn't hear of it, so I went straight to the source; our chef, Rosemary. She was glad of this chance to make tonight special."

"Any evening with you is special, Mr. Grey."

He smiles and says, "I'm glad you think so, because we've got many more ahead of us; you, me and Junior."

"Blip."

His eyes widen a little at her open defiance and he leans close to whisper, "I'm looking forward to you opening your gifts, especially the hairbrush."

Ana smiles and says, "You worked it out."

Christian raises one eyebrow and quietly asks, "You sure you can open it without blushing?"

She hadn't even considered that. "Well, not now. Why do you delight in torturing me?"

Christian grins and says, "That's easy; because you like it."

A little worried that there might be speeches, Ana is relieved to find out that Nan tapping her knife against her glass signals only that it's time to open the gifts. The thundering of little feet racing towards the tree puts a smile on Ana's face. She's surprised when the first child chooses one, reads the label, and races to an adult. Pru explains, "Part of the ritual; they open their own last."

"They don't mind?"

Smiling, she asks, "Does it look like they mind?"

It really doesn't. Without any adult intervention, the children who are old enough to read help the younger ones play Santa; handing out gifts with a smile and a "Merry Christmas."

By chance, Christian receives his before Ana. When he thanks the child and puts it aside, Ana says, "Don't wait for me. I want to see your reaction."

With a wary frown, he unwraps the t-shirt. On seeing the design he looks up at Ana, sees Pru grinning at him, and accuses, "You put her up to this."

With a self-satisfied grin, Pru nods and says, "Be a man; put it on."

Glowering his disapproval, Christian nevertheless obliges; sliding it on over his dress shirt. Ana manages to not laugh…just. But a few others round the table notice his wardrobe change and loudly express their delight at Christian wearing a "Mr. Worry" t-shirt.

Ana now has a hand to her mouth in an attempt to curb her laughter. Christian says "Thank you, baby," and kisses her cheek. As he does so, for her ears only, he adds, "You're in trouble."

She knows he's playing, so finally releases her delighted laugh, then murmurs, "I'm counting on it."

Only she can see the slight flaring of his nostrils as her behavior turns him on enough to accelerate his breathing. Just then a child hands Ana what she knows—because she bought it and had it wrapped—is the extra-large Mason Pearson wooden paddle hair brush; the implement she intends for not only its original purpose, but as the tool Christian shall use on her tender buttocks when they eventually resume discipline. She knows it won't be like when he's used his hand, which arouses her enough to prove ineffective as punishment; the brush will really hurt. Yet the part of her that needs Christian to be in control means she's blushing with arousal, not embarrassment, as she unwraps her gift.

Finally finding the courage to lift her gaze, she sees that Christian is entirely focused on her, his eyes alight with excitement, and he warmly reminds her, "I love you, Anastasia."

Any misgivings she might still have over her decision vanish at the absolute sincerity in his voice. For her part, she means so much more than anyone else can know when she merely says, "Thank you."

By then her second, larger gift has arrived and Christian smiles, saying, "I'm enjoying this; it really is better to give than to receive." He's not quite as impressed with the adult-sized tiger onesie, indignantly muttering "You're not wearing _that_ to bed," until Ana shows him the rear flap, intended to facilitate bathroom breaks without having to remove the entire garment.

Mindful of the children still in the room—some have already vanished to places unknown with their new toys—Pru quietly chimes in with, "Good for naughty time, too."

This brings an image to Ana's mind of her wearing the onesie while Christian spanks her with the hair brush, and she practically cackles at the thought, eliciting a questioning look from him. Once she's recovered, she rests her hand on his and promises, "I'll tell you later."

A much smaller party of now just adults filters into the piano room—drinks in hand. As usual, they make way for Kevin, the designated pianist of the family. But he defers to Christian, saying, "I hear that you can play?" Ana is shaking her head, to assure him that she didn't reveal that detail, when Kevin explains, "Someone Googled you. Can you really fly helicopters _and_ planes, pilot a large yacht that _you_ designed, play piano like a professional and kick arse like Chuck Norris?"

Christian, still apparently uncomfortable with being the center of attention, hasn't yet replied when Ana declares, "Yes." Putting a reassuring hand on his arm, she then adds, "Please, darling?"

She wonders what he's got planned when he arches one eyebrow and asks, "You sure, baby?"

Deciding, as ever, to trust him, she says, "I'm sure."

Everyone finds a seat—Ana next to Nan—as Christian sits down and tinkers with the keys for a minute or two; apparently testing the piano. Ana knows only from the thin line of his lips that the instrument is not perfectly in tune, but he proceeds. She's always been impressed with his musical ability. But tonight he surprises even her; playing several classic Christmas songs in a row from memory, while everyone sings along. And it occurs to her that he's probably done this for his family—year after year—that scared little boy doing whatever he could to feel worthy of his adoptive parents.

It's almost midnight—nearly time for them to leave—when he turns to her and mouths "For you," so Ana knows she's in trouble. The next tune is familiar, but the name at first remains elusive. As if he's arranged it, no one joins him when he starts singing, and she wonders why it never occurred to her that "Kiss from a Rose" is so relevant to their story. Her chest is aching with love by the second chorus; of course hearing every "gray" as "Grey". By the time he concludes "Now that your rose is in bloom, a light hits the gloom on the gray," she's openly weeping, and Nan silently hands her a clean handkerchief.

Muttering a "Thanks," and drying her eyes, Ana is struck by the tightly stitched initials on one corner and comments, "Funny; 'A.L.' sounds like a man's name."

The evening clearly taking a toll on her, Nan's face is pale and drawn, her voice like the flutter of a moth's wings when she smiles enigmatically and replies, "Yes, I know."

A concerned Jerry is immediately by her side, but she waves him away with a reed-thin arm and manages to instill command into her voice when she says, "I'm fine." Then to Christian, she instructs, "Another? Make your wife cry with happiness again."

Christian chuckles at that, and then silently asks Ana for permission. Only at her nod does he return his attention to the piano and begin another song; this time "Into my Arms". Again, his choice of song holds special meaning for Ana, because he's said more than once that only her presence in his life has ever made him consider the existence of a benevolent god. So she sheds more happy tears as he sings.

When he's done, and the room has once more broken into spontaneous applause, Ana dries her eyes and comments to Nan, "If he keeps this up, I'll need a second handkerchief." When there is no reply, she glances at the woman to see that she's asleep. Smiling, that Christian's singing acted as a lullaby, Ana wonders why those alarm bells are ringing in her head, and then her conscious brain catches up; Nan's chest isn't rising and falling with each breath. "Jerry!"

The scene becomes one of those moments in Ana's life when time seems to slow down, so her brain can process everything that happens; Jerry begins checking Nan's vitals, even as he loudly orders, "Get Allen." Wondering why the butler might be necessary, Ana is staring at the monogrammed handkerchief, remembering Nan's earlier smile, when she's suddenly on Christian's lap as he lifts her to the far side of the sofa. Bree moves in to help, nodding and backing off when Jerry tersely utters, "DNR."

Again, it takes Ana's brain a moment to process what's going on, and then she remembers: Do Not Resuscitate. A silent howl rips through her at the sudden comprehension of why no one has called for an ambulance, and she turns her face into Christian's chest, some childish part of her confident that, if she cannot see that Nan is dead, then it won't become true. But it's not enough, and her distress finally finds voice with an inarticulate wail when Jerry's soft words—sounding so much like a question, for which there is no answer—fill the silently waiting room. "She's gone."

Allen, that aging symbol of a fading British class system, arrives just then; instantly taking in the scene. Exclaiming a couple of words in a language foreign to Ana (sounding like "muh khwish-la") he drops to his knees before Nan, holds one of her lifeless hands and brushes a strand of hair from her face as he tenderly says something else, in what Ana now guesses must be Gaelic, and sounds like, "Go-dteith-tu, mo-mhuirnin si-an."

Finally understanding that they're a couple, Ana is reeling from too many emotions when Bree quietly explains, "Go-de-thu, mavourneen slaun: may you go safe, my darling."

"What did he say when he first came in?"

"Mo chuisle; a term of endearment that translates as 'my pulse', but means so much more."

_This_ Ana understands instantly, because Christian is in her blood, just as she's in his. So she knows what Allen is enduring at this moment, as he drops his head onto Nan's lap; grief shaking his old body while he silently weeps. Ana looks to Christian, wordlessly beseeching him to somehow make it all better. She almost feels guilty when he winces slightly at the burden she's placed on his shoulders, but he doesn't hesitate, merely loudly asking, "Nan's favorite song?"

Ana never finds out who answers, "Unchained Melody." Without a word, Christian stands, gently placing Ana on the sofa and commanding Bree, with a gesture, to watch over her as he again sits at the piano and performs; his soulful voice ripping and soothing Ana's heart at the same time. She's grateful when Bree perches on the arm of the sofa and offers her hand, and is clutching it for emotional support when Allen lifts his head and adds his surprisingly strong voice to Christian's.

When the song ends, and the music dies, Bill moves forward and places his hand on Allen's shoulder, offering a few words of sympathy before leaning down to kiss the top of Nan's head. With only "I'll fetch Pru," to Jerry, he leaves; wiping his eyes as he goes. The gesture of farewell is copied by almost everyone; the room slowly and reverently emptying. Ana doesn't even remember him returning to her side, but suddenly Christian is urging her to stand. Mutely, she does as bid; muttering "I'm so sorry," to Allen before saying goodbye the woman who's come to mean so much to her in the past two weeks.

Numb from a deluge of emotion, her pain too vivid for mere tears, Ana blindly walks where Christian leads. Outside the room, he lifts her in his arms and she snuggles into him, desperate for comfort. Their bags are packed and in the car, so Ana is surprised on realizing that they're heading towards the bedroom. "Not going to the airport?"

Of course, he's not showing it, but she can hear the emotion in his voice when Christian replies, "Not tonight, baby."

Christian puts Ana on her feet, pulls back the bed covers and wordlessly starts undressing her. "Christian, I'm not—"

"I know, baby. I'm not in the mood, either. Just get into bed, okay?"

"Okay." Somewhere in the middle of the process, she finds the handkerchief, still clutched in her hand. "Oh God, I have to return it."

She's actually moving towards the door when Christian stops her and bleakly intones "Sweetheart, she doesn't need it anymore." And she's finally able to weep.

* * *

Author's note: Sorry about the delay. This one proved difficult. Thank you, to those who checked on me.

Forgive my ignorance, but I'm not sure if I used Irish Gaelic or Scottish Gaelic, so I left it unsaid, even though the name "Stewart" is clearly of Scottish origin.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter Forty-eight

With Nan's physical decline well documented, there is no need for an autopsy. So, three days later, the memorial service is held at a nearby funeral home. Ana and Christian are here, having extended their stay for this purpose, though Carla had left as scheduled; apparently missing Bob too much to stay even a few more days. A permanent cover of almost black clouds, and a steady drizzle of bone-chilling rain, seems entirely appropriate.

Pru, uncharacteristically quiet these past few days, is still subdued; huddled against Nigel's side as she walks from the car. Watching them, his arm around her shoulders as he guides her into the building, Ana remembers the conversation she'd had with the young woman on the morning after Nan's death…

_"I had no fucking idea they were shagging, did you?"_

_"Uh, I doubt they've been doing much of that lately, Pru. But, no, I didn't know they were a couple. It bothers you?"_

_"Fuck, yes, it bothers me. Al's been…well, fuck, he's been more of a father to me than my own dad. And now I find out that he effectively _was_ my father, though he and Nan never married. It fucking pisses me off."_

_"Why, sweetheart?"_

_"I dunno. I guess I feel like I missed out on being close to him…like I maybe would have had…more with him if I'd known."_

_Noting how often "I" appeared in the sentence, Ana said, "Have you considered it from Allen's point of view? He was only doing what Nan wanted, and she was doing what she thought was best. You must know that, when she was worried what the family would think of her dating 'beneath her station', it was mainly him she was thinking of. I bet she was concerned what a potential scandal might do to you and Jerry, too."_

_"Yeah, I guess so. And I can't fucking stay mad at him; he's a doll. Fuck, what do you suggest I do about this?"_

_"I suggest you get over it and go talk to him; he needs you right now." _

It had been enough; Pru had thanked Ana, embraced her and gone in search of Allen. Since then, there has been an obvious closeness between the two, despite the difference in their ages; with Pru taking every opportunity to let Allen know how much she appreciates him, through word or gesture—like right now, when she leaves Nigel's side only to rush into the old man's arms and say something that Ana cannot hear.

"Okay, baby?"

"Huh? Sorry; just thinking about things." Realizing that Christian's concern is genuine, she smiles a little and adds, "Yes, I'm okay. What about you?"

The grim set of his jaw being the only sign of distress, Christian quietly reveals, "So far, so good. Don't fucking let go, okay?"

Anyone looking would probably assume that Ana's arm through his is for _her_ support, but the couple knows better. With Nan being the second dead body Christian has seen in his life—his mother being the first—his nightmares had returned the past couple of nights. And, though he hasn't wept, he'd been deeply affected by first the death and then the outpouring of grief that had gripped the household since. Only Ana knows what it's costing him to be here today. Tightening her grip on his arm, she promises, "I've got you, Grey."

It's enough to curve his lips slightly in a grateful smile and he agrees, "Yes, you do."

It's an open casket. Ana tries not to think about what has been done to keep Nan looking as if she's only sleeping. Christian's grip tightens as they near the coffin. Worried, she glances at him and he gives a short, terse nod to show that he's coping. Ana has already said her goodbyes, so doesn't feel the need to actually approach.

They're being ushered to their seats when there's a commotion at the door. Glancing that way, Ana sees that Pru is in a heated discussion with a man in a wheelchair; the man's carer, a woman, also having a few indignant words. On noticing that the man's skin is jaundiced—one of the signs of liver disease—Ana guesses, "I think that might be her parents."

Frowning, Christian says, "Stay here, baby."

Clutching his arm, Ana nervously asks, "Why?"

With his first genuine smile of the day, Christian kisses her cheek and commands, "Trust me."

She trusts him enough to release him, but watches every move he makes. He approaches the now reasonably large gathering; a few other relatives rallying behind Pru and Nigel, and a couple of the security staff vigilant nearby. Christian offers his hand in greeting to the newcomers, and they apparently cheerfully accept. Wondering how he seems able to command even strangers, Ana watches in fascination as he, with a smile and a gesture, persuades them to leave the room with him, somehow also compelling everyone else to remain behind.

Pru, still visibly shaken, sits down next to Ana, muttering, "Fuckers! I was better off on the streets than with them. They've never sent a penny in support while I've lived with Nan. Fuck, they didn't even visit me in hospital. And suddenly they're concerned enough to attend the funeral? They're not fooling anyone. They think there's fucking money to be had."

Taking Pru's free hand—the other, of course, is in Nigel's—Ana asks, "What did Christian say to them?"

Finally able to smile, Pru reveals, "He politely introduced himself as the new owner of Elspeth Hall and acted delighted to meet them, suggesting that they discuss matters in the next room. But they didn't see him wink at me. He's kind of wonderful, isn't he?"

Ana laughs and says, "I've always thought so."

Several minutes later, Christian returns alone, looking very pleased with himself, and offers a thumbs-up to Pru and Nigel as he sits next to Ana.

"Well?"

"Well what, baby?"

"Well, what happened? What did you say to them? Have they gone?"

With the hint of a smile on his lips, Christian quietly reveals, "I thanked them for coming and asked them for money."

Resisting the urge to laugh, Ana says, "You know they're here looking for money, right?"

"Of course. I explained that the estate is in debt and everyone in the family will need to help out if we're to keep it going."

Pru asks, "And that worked?"

Christian leans closer for a moment, to whisper, "I also threatened to break his legs if they came back in here."

Pru giggles and says, "I'm surprised _that_ worked."

Christian shrugs and says, "It probably helped when I lifted him, wheelchair and all, and carried him out the door."

Pru chokes on her laugh, in an attempt to stop it, then says, "Thank you, Christian."

Nigel quietly interjects, "Yes, thank you, sir. I probably would have _actually_ broken his legs, so it's a good thing you handled it."

With that lopsided grin, Christian reminds him, "You're off the clock; you don't have to 'sir' me anymore."

"Habit."

Most new arrivals walk past the coffin and pay their last respects to Nan before the professional ushers escort them to a seat, and the large auditorium gradually fills to capacity; the staff having to fetch a few more chairs to accommodate the crowd.

When everyone is seated, Allen walks to the small podium near the coffin. It's enough to silence the large gathering. With a stoicism no doubt forged from several decades of coping with loss, Allen begins, "Thank you, for being here today. I know that Nan would be touched, even a little awed, by how many of you braved this weather to show your love." Bowing his head, he adds, "And, thank you, for accepting me into the family. She was very worried about that, though I argued that no one cares about such things any more. It's a pity that I can't claim this small victory, as I so rarely won our arguments." Taking a deep breath, he continues, "The one good thing about cancer is that it gives you time to plan, so today is exactly how Nan wanted it. My only contribution is to say that I knew Annabel Marie Lambert her entire life and never met a better definition of the word 'lady'. She is truly the best person I've ever known." Glancing towards the coffin, he fondly concludes, "And I remain, as ever, her humble servant."

Ana had assumed that the huge TV screen on the wall was for photos of Nan's life, so she—along with almost everyone else in the room—utters a shocked gasp when Nan's face appears on the screen; smiling, as if nothing is wrong. "Thank you, for giving me this chance to say goodbye. I wonder how many of you are here? Guess I'll never know…or maybe the Book is right and I'm somehow watching over you? I hope so." With a small shake of her head, she says, "I won't keep you long. If Allen Stewart has done as I asked, and he always has, there's food and beverages waiting for you in the next room. And I genuinely want you to have a good time…cry, if you feel the need. But please try and celebrate my life, not mourn my death. Life's too short for wallowing." The digital image takes a deep breath and the eyes well with tears, as if to make a lie of her own words, before Nan angrily dashes them away with the back of a hand and continues, "Martin Luther King, Jr. said that if a man hasn't discovered something he will die for, he isn't fit to live. I would add that, once you've found that thing you'd die for, live for it, instead. I have devoted my life to my family and friends, and have not regretted one moment of it. My fervent prayer is that you find something equally worthy of your time on this earth. Thank you, and…goodbye."

For a few seconds, nothing is heard but sobbing, then a sad tune gently plays as photos appear on the screen, one after the other; Nan at various ages, some faces familiar to Ana, and many others that she'll probably never meet, all while a soulful male voice sings about a "sad and beautiful world." Finally, it's the profound truth of these seemingly dichotomous words that helps Ana to weep.

* * *

After a second farewell dinner and tearful goodbyes at the estate, Ana is still a bit fragile on the way to the airport, leaning into Christian for emotional support. They're accompanied by Lea, Nigel and Pru. The jet (this time the familiar GEH vehicle) is ready to go. There are more tears, of course, as they say goodbye; even from Lea. So Nigel has to comfort his sister _and_ his girlfriend as the weary travelers are escorted onto the plane.

Secure in their seats while the plane taxis to the runway, Ana is clutching Christian's hand as she says, "I know it didn't go as planned, but that was the best vacation ever, thank you."

Christian grimaces and comments, "I don't know how you can say that, baby. I introduce you to your great aunt, only to have her die beside you."

Desperate for him to understand, Ana explains, "Exactly. If it weren't for you, I would only have learned of her existence when a probate lawyer contacted me. Now, she's in my heart forever, because of you. And we have a second home in England, the place of my ancestors. Thank you, darling."

Somewhat buoyed by her sincerity, Christian smiles and says, "Okay. But you're wrong."

"Wrong?"

"This wasn't the best vacation ever; the next one will be better."

Leaning her head on his shoulder as the plane takes off, Ana sighs with pleasure and says, "I believe you."

Once they're in the air and finally on their way home, the professionally charming flight attendant offers snacks and drinks. When Christian looks to Ana, silently inviting her to choose something, she says, "I think maybe I'd just like to go to bed."

She can see by the slight widening of his eyes that he's understood, though he says nothing; just dismisses the woman with a nod and stands, never releasing Ana's hand as he leads her to the bedroom and shuts the door. Only then does he speak. "You sure, baby? It's been a hell of a day. I'll understand if you'd rather sleep until we land at Sea-Tac."

After the emotional rollercoaster ride of this day—hell, of this past week—Ana is almost desperate to reconnect with Christian in the best way possible, in this familiar setting. "We'll arrive in the evening, right?" At his nod, she starts undressing and says, "Plenty of time for sleeping _after_ we land."

Christian gently stills her hands and takes over the task of removing her clothing as he grins and says, "That's my girl."

As if they've discussed it, they're both gentle, at first; silently and tenderly seeking those achingly familiar places that offer the most pleasure for both of them. But, when Ana pushes Christian back onto the bed and straddles him, sighing at the exquisite perfection of their bodies joining, tenderness fades away, to be replaced by raw passion. And they both become their basest animal selves, clasping and clawing as they grunt and moan their way to blissful oblivion—she calling out his name as a celebration of everything that is good in her life. Then, despite her assertions, Ana falls asleep in his arms, to dream of flying free like a bird.

* * *

Exiting the jet, Ana almost weeps with something like relief on seeing Taylor waiting for them, looking tanned and rested after his Hawaiian vacation; his healthful glow so incongruous under this typically dark and foreboding Seattle sky. She mutters "Hug alert," to Christian, not very concerned that he'll be jealous, then practically flies down the steps and wraps her arms around the bodyguard's waist as she exclaims, "Jason! We missed you."

Quickly recovering from the shock of suddenly having an armful of employer, Taylor laughs and says, "I missed you too, ma'am. I'm glad you're safe, and I'm sorry to hear about your aunt."

Releasing him only after the imposition of a quick peck on the cheek, she says, "That's okay. It was about as perfect as such things can be. How was your vacation? How's Gail?"

"Vacation was wonderful, thank you. Gail is well, though happy to be back at work. Two weeks of someone else doing everything for her was almost too much. She maintains that none of them did it quite right, though everything seemed just fine to me." There's something else in his smile—something R-rated—when he concludes, "Blissfully so."

Delighted that her and Christian's show of gratitude to their favorite employees went so well, Ana laughs and says, "I guess she's just got used to doing things _her_ way, so it's a good thing she'll be in charge of maintaining our new home. Oh, have you seen the house? Is it nearly done?"

With a glance to Christian, for one of those silent conversations, Taylor explains, "You're about to see for yourself, ma'am."

Looking to Christian, Ana asks, "We're going straight there?"

"Yes, baby. I'm afraid that the yard is still a bit of a mess, because the landscapers can't get here until Thursday. But Elliot pulled out all the stops so that we can wake up on Christmas Day in our new home. Jason and Gail have spent the past two days moving us in…at least, our clothing and other essentials. We'll move the bigger stuff—like your desk and my home gym—when things settle down. Other than that, we have all new furniture, so we can keep Escala pretty much as it is."

Though it sounds like a done deal, Ana knows him very well by now. He's keenly watching her reaction, worried that it's the wrong decision. So she doesn't keep him waiting long. With a glorious smile, she earnestly declares, "Perfect."

They snuggle on the short drive to the house. Christian's unease returns on the sight of their yard…their mud puddle; still covered with evidence of the many workers who must have sweated to get the renovations done on time. So Ana kisses his cheek and repeats, "Perfect."

He merely shrugs and says, "It will be. I promise you."

Ana knows by how that, if he's determined to sulk, the best thing is just to ignore it, so she crooks her finger to bring him closer and whispers, "I'm looking forward to making love in our new bed."

No one could stay in a bad mood after that suggestion. Christian smiles, kisses her and vows, "I love you, wife."

They have to traverse a network of wooden planks to reach the front door without walking in the mud—Christian, of course, making sure that Ana does so safely. The door opens to reveal a smiling, and also tanned, Gail. Ana embraces her and is excitedly asking questions about Hawaii when Christian says, "Uh, baby? Little cold out here."

Giggling, as she moves into the entrance foyer so he can enter, Ana says, "Sorry. I'm just so happy to be home."

Christian mouths "home" and they're still smiling at each other when Gail says, "Well, I've put out refreshments for two, and there's more in that gargantuan refrigerator if you're really hungry. Unless you need anything else, we'll see you in the morning?"

Ana embraces both Gail and Jason, and Christian bothers to shake their hands as they all say goodnight. When they're gone; the sound of a sturdy lock automatically clicking into place seconds later, Ana asks, "They're not staying here?"

"No, baby. Remember? They have their own residence."

Of course, she did know that, but hadn't really processed the fact that she and Christian would actually have the house to themselves most of the time. "What if we need one of them?"

Pointing to what looks like a wall phone, Christian explains, "Intercom; three on this level, two upstairs and one in the basement. Gail is only a call away and Taylor will be here in seconds if anything trips the alarm. And they both have permanent access to the main house, but will mostly stay in their residence. Oh, same deal as Escala; you're not to enter their place without permission, okay?"

"I wouldn't. We're really alone?"

Grinning, Christian asks, "What do you have in mind, Mrs. Grey?"

Answering his smile, Ana says, "I thought, first of all, you might give me a tour? I haven't seen this place since the last time Gia needed my opinion on furnishings."

Taking her hand, Christian leads her towards the living room as he says, "It would be my pleasure, ma'am. I've implemented all your wishes, and added a few of my own; including the refrigerator Gail mentioned."

Ana laughs and says, "Doesn't sound as if she likes it."

"Possibly because it's a Smart refrigerator, so she'll need lessons on how to use it. But I suspect that it's just because she has to clean it."

"Speaking of which, should we get her some help? It's a big house."

"Don't tell her, but I've asked Jason to keep an eye on her, especially after the baby is born. He'll let us know if it's getting too much for her."

"Thank you, darling. I wouldn't like Gail to…"

Following her gaze, to see what's silenced her, Christian explains, "Another of my additions. I thought you might enjoy decorating it with me?"

For some reason genuinely moved by the gesture, Ana can only point out the obvious. "You got a tree; a real Christmas tree."

Smiling at her reaction, Christian says, "Technically Jason got a tree, but I'll do the deed next year. And, when our son is old enough to help out, he'll come with me. Elliot wasn't too fussed, but I enjoyed doing so with Carrick."

Walking over to inspect what sort of decorations are in the boxes at the base of the tree, Ana says, "I don't suppose you celebrated Christmas until you were adopted?"

"Actually, I had one; that foster home I mentioned. There was a small, plastic tree and I got in trouble for waking up early and opening some other kid's present."

"Oh, God; they didn't punish you, did they?"

"No, baby. They were a sweet couple who understood that I just didn't know any better." Then he shrugs and says, "That kid who's Christmas I ruined wasn't so gentle." At her expression, he quickly adds, "Just a punch in the arm when no one was looking. Trust me, baby, that's nothing."

Silently picking up ornaments and hanging them on the tree, Ana pushes her sympathy back down inside, as Christian has never wanted pity from her, then asks, "Elliot didn't do stuff like that, did he? He's smart enough to take advantage of your good nature."

"No. He's a good person, too, just in a different way. The worst thing he did was…just between you and me?" At her nod, he continues, "Almost every time I got into trouble with Grace and Carrick, at least as a child, it was actually Elliot who had committed the crime. I'd confess and accept the punishment."

Stopping what she's doing, Ana asks, "What? Why would you do that?"

Christian shrugs and explains, "He asked me that, too, after the second or third time."

"What did you say?"

"That's what brothers do."

Her eyes burning with unexpressed emotion, Ana manages to say, "Can I see the new bed, now?"

Apparently genuinely surprised, Christian asks, "That turned you on?"

Taking his hand and leading him towards the stairs, Ana confirms, "Darling, _you_ turn me on."

* * *

Ana wakes with a start, at first unsure where she is. But then the ornate curves of the cast iron four-poster bed bring it all back and she blushes at the memory of being tied to this very frame. Christian had been like a wild thing, his eyes burning with a ferocious passion, seemingly desperate to make the first time in their new home something to remember. Languidly lifting one arm, surveying the telltale red mark around her wrist, and mentally scanning her body for only slightly painful evidence of her husband's ardor, Ana knows that she will.

Drained, but till not sleepy after their session, they'd headed downstairs to take advantage of the refreshments Gail had laid out for them, then gently made love by soft firelight. Ana doesn't even remember returning to bed, and presumes that Christian carried her. Unsure if Gail or Taylor might be downstairs, she bothers with a robe before visiting the bathroom and going in search of her husband. The smell of breakfast being ruined solves the mystery even before she finds him, wearing only a full-length apron over pajama pants, muttering expletives to himself as he makes a huge mess of the pristine kitchen. Ana can't help a small giggle and he turns his frown on her, saying, "Instead of laughing at me, you could fucking give me a hand. Why the fuck couldn't you just get everything the same as Escala?"

Turning off the stove, before the scrambled eggs completely dry out, Ana says, "Because the kitchen at Escala was clearly designed for esthetics, not function. Good morning, husband. Thank you, for making breakfast. And, where on earth did you find a toilet roll holder that includes an iPod dock?"

His foul mood vanishing as if it never existed, Christian grins and says, "Oh, you like that? Bob suggested it and I couldn't resist. I know you like to listen to music while you bathe. The fucking thing has _four_ speakers. Did you test it out?"

"Well, I used the toilet paper. But I haven't showered, yet. I thought you might like to join me?"

His smile widening, Christian says, "What an excellent idea." Then kissing her, and resting his forehead on hers, he adds, "Good morning, wife. I enjoyed our first night, thank you."

Mindful of morning breath, though he's never complained, Ana barely moves her lips as she says, "Me, too. Why are you discussing bathroom fittings with Bob?"

Returning his attention to preparing the meal, Christian reveals, "Because I used him as our supplier. He sourced the best appliances from here and around the world. Wait until you see the laundry! Gail's workload will be halved."

Wondering how Christian's apparently limitless generosity can still surprise her, Ana says, "Bob has a _little_ appliance store in Savannah. Do you know what a job like this will mean to his business?"

"Of course. And that's something we need to discuss…well, Carla and Bob will want to tell you. Are you going to help me, or not?"

Not game to draw breath, for fear that she's guessed wrong, Ana suggests, "Are they moving here?"

"Fuck." Turning, Christian shrugs and says, "I don't know why I forget how smart you are." Discarding the filthy apron, so he can embrace her properly, he continues, "Don't cry, baby. It's not quite a done deal. We first have to find a suitable venue for Bob to open a store locally."

"But…Mom's rehab and therapy?"

"Flynn's on the case; he'll find a suitable therapist."

Still confused—her brain unable to process this gift that she hadn't even known to wish for—Ana asks, "Wait, what about Deidre; Bob's daughter? She's the reason they moved in the first place."

"Her husband, Eddie, has been offered a promotion, if they relocate to Los Angeles. And Deidre doesn't need Bob's help so much now that her kids are all at school. Please don't tell them I let the cat out of the bag? Carla wanted to wait until things were more certain before discussing this with you."

Wiping the few tears on her sleeve, Ana promises, "Okay." Then surveying the mess, she asks, "What are we going to do about this?"

Not quite releasing her—one arm remaining around her waist, Christian looks over what he's done and suggests, "How about I call Gail back and beg her to come rescue us, then you and I can fool around in the hot tub?"

Almost too happy to think straight, Ana smilingly declares, "Best idea ever."

* * *

Where credit's due: "Sad and Beautiful World" is by Sparklehorse.

Refrigerator is "Robey's Meneghini three-door La Cambusa"...I want one. Toilet roll holder is "iPod Roll Holder" from the site "Opulent items."


End file.
